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Ties that Bind and Tear Apart	By : wickedorin Category: Final Fantasy VIII > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 619 -:- 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
- 4
- 5
- 6
Ties that Bind and Tear Apart and the general overall concept of
Ties
that Bind and Tear Apart are completely copyright Orin Drake 2005,
as are the characters Kyrie Almasy Leonhart Kinneas (maybe Loire is in
there somewhere..?), Rodger Kinneas and John Sparda. The name/idea
of Sparda and the weapons Ebony and Ivory are copyright Capcom. The
names of Griever, Vincent Valentine, Cloud Strife, Squall Leonhart, Seifer
Almasy, Rinoa Heartily, Quistis Trepe, Laguna Loire and probably a million
other things I'm forgetting are copyright Squaresoft. Riku, Sora,
Traverse Town, Leon, the Heartless, Ansem, the Unknowns and a million others
are copyright Square and probably Disney... and whatever else I've forgotten.
I'm not making money from this, so what the hell are you worried about?

        Background: Same Kyrie and
same universe as, in order, *deep breath* The Sins of Two Fathers,
Retribution
Nor Redemption, Descendants of the Mundane, and
Fool's Journey.
I suppose this story specifically came from Fool's Journey (and
Make
'em Smile, and This Mess... but nevermind), in one sense...
but really, it was spawned by a theoretical conversation by a friend one
late, late night. (And I still hate you. *grin*) It's set a
few months after Fool's Journey, by the way.

        Possible WARNINGS:
You better believe this will likely contain a lot of foul language, "possible"
weird sexual situations, relationships that are generally considered not
part of the mainstream, plenty of violence, and a hell of a lot of screwing
with the heads of readers and characters alike. If you've read anything
of mine before, you probably know what to expect. It's gonna get
dirty in here. Also keep in mind that this was thought up and written
well before Kingdom Hearts 2 came out, so... yeah.

        Another NOTE:
And finally, here comes the sex!

Ties that Bind and Tear Apart

Chapter 5

By Orin Drake
        "Anybody die?" Rodger asked
immediately upon seeing his wife in the hallway.

        "Not yet." She responded,
glancing past him for a moment before seeing John dart across the hallway
several yards away as if having forgotten something. Curiouser...

        Her husband distracted her
as best he could. "So. Wanna go home and have an early birthday
fuck?"

        That, she had never
expected him to say. Certainly not in the very public hallway of
the estate. Not that she minded, really... after the moment of shock
passed. "With an invitation like that, how can I refuse?"

        "You can't." He grinned,
buying time for John. "That's what keeps you hanging around."

        Kyrie returned his expression,
then shook her head. "That must be it, alright."

        "So..." he changed subjects
quietly. "What happened?"

        "Cloud kicked my ass."
She mumbled, crossing her arms. "But I played dirty before he could
officially win."

        "Well of course."
He agreed with her politics.

        "But... he said he'd train
me." She looked down the hall again, making eye contact with a suddenly
"extremely innocent" half-devil walking toward them.

        Rodger couldn't help but
be impressed, really. "That's... dangerous." Wound up coming
out.

        "I know." She agreed
jokingly. When John stopped at her side, she couldn't really help
but change the subject appropriately. "Are we headed home to roll
around or what?"

        The silver-haired boy made
fleeting and confused eye contact with the brunette before realizing that
had been Rodger's "distraction technique". Appreciated. "Let's."

        Back to the station, they
jumped the first Jet home. A nice, swift train ride was just what
they needed--stopping dead as they entered the car.

        What Kyrie had forgotten
was that the video tape had been left on the train after the visit with
Quistis... and while it seemed at first that much had been an accident...
it wasn't. Looking back, it felt like an accident... but it
only could have been intentional. Unconscious, but intended.

        And, suddenly... there the
tape was. Resting on the seat. Comfortably. On a train
that couldn't have possibly been the same one they traveled on to get there.

        They all chose to put it
out of their minds. At that point... it wasn't worth whatever emotions
it brought on.

        Walking in the front door
(and instantly tossing the video in the closet), Kyrie contentedly pulled
her boots off and draped herself over the couch. What a morning.
And to think she had been planning on being in her underwear in front of
the television all day...

        Well, what the hell was
stopping her just then? With no self-consciousness, she pulled her
jeans and shirt off, plopped them at the edge of the couch, and stretched
out her legs.

        That, also, was appreciated.
John was quick to follow, removing every stitch of clothing... save the
red collar he'd taken to wearing all the time. It just felt... right,
there.

        Rodger mock-sighed at the
two of them. It wasn't as if he minded; in fact, it had taken too
damn long to get home. He'd had images going through his head during
the whole trip... ones that did not involve clothing, so he got rid of
that first.

        Kyrie looked appreciatively
from one boy to the other, enjoying the sights. She then opened her
arms, jokingly asking, "And who gets to go first?"

        Her two "admirers" gave
one another a look of amusement before her husband answered for them.
"We're gonna play, first. Early birthday present, after all."

        She did everything in her
power not to let her jaw hit the floor. Yeah, they'd always done
things together, but... rarely was it just the boys, even for her benefit.
That was very nice. "I am immensely grateful."

        Another look was exchanged--one
of quick permissions and ideas. John then approached her, kneeling
in front of the couch and grinning with a gloriously cocky, false innocence.
"You'll have to take the rest of that off, first. It'll... help us."

        "Well, in the interest of
helping." She agreed, ridding herself of bra and underwear within
seconds.

        Rodger moved in front of
them, leaving everything to imagination as he pulled the coffee table out
of the way. Suddenly there was plenty of floor space...

        And she was not going
to complain there. Front row seat, indeed.

        There was no look exchanged
that time--no need for one. John leaned forward, his lips almost
against her ear. His voice was deep, smooth, rough with sex.
"Which one would you like to see on top first, Kyrie?"

        "You." She whispered
back. "I want you to treat my husband very well."

        He pulled back, grinning.
Well, if that's what the birthday girl wanted.

        Not that Rodger was one
to complain. He laid down quickly on the floor, waiting for the "very
well" feeling to overcome him. To his surprise, the blue eyes that
appeared rather suddenly above him looked more than willing. Almost...
hungry... which only added to the sensation when the boy's lithe body draped
over his own. They'd never quite... done that before...

        The half-devil was almost
too pleased to be on top, grinding so perfectly slowly that he was starting
to annoy himself right away--not that it kept him from doing it again.
And again.

        Once more surprising himself,
Rodger actually groaned at the slowness of the pressure above him, his
hands automatically going for the boy's waist. It's not that he'd
ever been opposed to the idea of just the two of them, but... the reason
behind never having done this together before seemed like a distant and
stupid thing. Why had they never done this before?!

        Kyrie was watching... very
closely. John's smirk, Her husband's groan of impatience and pleasure--the
two of them moving against one another... Almost too much.
Too wonderful.

        Her husband realized, at
about the fifth extremely slow grind, that he was far too close to going
too far. "Going to need a pretty girl now, I think." He joked.

        The silver-haired boy was
feeling... particularly interested in playing, all of a sudden. His
eyes glittered, his expression betraying nothing but the utmost purity
and innocence... as far as he could push it, anyway. "Oh? Aren't
I pretty enough to fuck?"

        How the brunette
kept that moan from charging out of his lips and rendering him utterly
useless was a mystery better left to philosophical scholars. Somehow,
he contained it, making conversation instead. "Now, be careful what
you ask for, devil-boy." He kept his voice low and dangerous--sure
to keep a teasing grin on his lips. "You don't want this to go too
far."

        "Oh?" the other challenged,
grinding particularly hard and slow to wrench a breathless cry from the
body beneath him. "You think you're up for that, do you?"

        For a moment, Rodger said
nothing. In truth, he was answering in his head. What he finally
managed, after his pause, was a devious chuckle. He had no problem
trying new things, to put it lightly. He was also pretty damn sure
Kyrie would have no problems with it.

        For the moment, John thought
he'd won. He continued to rub their bodies together, bringing the
both of them vast pleasure from the practiced rhythm. Just when he
thought his opponent was down, however--reinforcements. From behind,
Kyrie slid one hand across his abdomen and down to his shaft, the other
clawing at his chest while her teeth found portions of his neck not covered
by the collar.

        It was all just too much.
He jerked backward, finishing rough and unexpected... not that that took
anything away from the orgasm. "That was... unfair..." he panted
as he leaned back against her a little, sounding far less annoyed than
he did extremely pleased.

        "Oh, and expecting me to
watch all this without joining in was fair?" she challenged softly,
holding him as he recovered.

        "Dammit." Rodger panted,
half in jest and half truly annoyed.

        "I've got more planned for
you, darlin'." She promised with a devious wink.

        Suddenly all annoyance disappeared.
He grinned, instead. Well, if there were more planned... John
took a breather for the moment, sitting back against the couch and watching
the other two get into the action. So familiar with one another,
moving so perfectly; there were no words, no need for them. It was
at once the making of love, and animalistic fucking--all perfection, all
natural unto themselves. They'd done it so often... this tangle of
love and lust and physical expression of the greater whole they made together.
It was fascinating. It was... distantly familiar. No, he himself
wasn't just fucked, not just fucking, but...

        It was in their motions.
How their bodies rested against each other, how their kisses switched between
passion and tenderness, a palm against shoulder blade here, a light nip
against the jaw there... All knowing the landscape, all having become
already so comfortable. Not that he was uncomfortable... but
not even he allowed himself that presence. While being a part of
them, he was still... on the outside...

        As Kyrie worked her husband
to the edge, she looked up--and saw it in the deepest of blue eyes, strikingly
sincere only in the glitter of an instant before he masked them with that
cocky grin again. Want. Need. But not for sex;
not specifically, at least...

        She looked down, meeting
Rodger's eyes... a silent expression exchanged between them--asking, and
permission. "John." She whispered, gently. Suddenly Kyrie's
birthday seemed to be all about making John the middle.

        He was a little surprised
about being called back in so soon... not that he wasn't ready to try again.
Something about watching the two of them was... satisfying. He crawled
over to them, climbing behind Kyrie and caressing her shoulders.
"Yes?"

        She greatly appreciated
how rich and deep his voice became when he was really working it... not
to mention how accurate his touch was in its lightness, just enough to
feel the tickle of fingers with the barest of pressure. "Let's rearrange,
shall we?" she suggested, signaling the boy beneath. As he moved
out from under her, she quickly took his place to lay on her back, bringing
John down on top of her.

        The half-devil nearly purred
with the agreeable position, grateful. "And to what do I owe this
extremely kind treatment?" he joked, slowly grinding himself against her
firm, flat abdomen, working just a touch lower with every stroke.

        "Were you serious?" he eyes
sparkled deviously as she asked.

        It was then that he stopped,
his body paralyzed with the meaning of her question. She was asking
if... he was willing to... and Rodger would... He swallowed, searching
her eyes for deeper meaning for quite a number of seconds... finding only
loving honesty in them. "I... wouldn't be opposed, to be honest."

        She took him at his word,
drawing him back against her body... and lightly moving her hips, taking
him inside of herself slowly. She felt him shiver and gasp, the motion
unexpected so soon, his body still tender with actions mere moments ago.
She glanced up past him to see Rodger crawl behind the boy, looking more
than willing, starting off by only placing a light hand on John's shoulder...

        It was all too much, too
fast... "Be careful..." the half-devil panted, clenching the carpet
hard enough to pull some of the fibers out, "What monsters you bring to
the surface."

        He should already know better.
Kyrie bucked, hard, then squeezed herself around him extremely tightly.
"Show me." She growled, almost as a challenge.

        He moaned at the suddenly
intensified tightness. His eyes flashed open--just as red as the
ones mirrored below. For one, single, split second in time, he felt
absolutely trapped between them. A moment's panic--remembering things
that went through his head while in Hell's room of souls, from his father's
memory. Remembering his childhood, too... how it had all been ripped
away from him so quickly. His mother dead, his father gone, the truth
about what he was...

        It didn't matter, of course.
He shook his head, blinking; eyes back to their almost unnaturally bright
blue. If the truth had to be told, and he supposed it was being told
right there and then as Kyrie's eyes regarded him with nothing of fear
and everything of some odd, loving desire... he did feel safe there, between
them. Safe... complete... home. The knowledge shook him; not
in a negative context, not in a fearsome sort of way... but it was at once
surprising, and comforting. There was no monster there, inside.
A vicious beast should anyone try to hurt something he loved, but... never
a monster. That, too... was a bit of a shock.

        Her arms rested snugly against
his back, pulling him even closer. Maybe she got a little bit of
what he was thinking... or maybe she just knew by instinct that he needed
the extra protection, just for that small period of time. She let
him rest his head on her shoulder for a moment, whispering against his
neck, "If there's anything about this you don't want..."

        "No." He ground out
slowly, his voice almost... fragile. It was remedied soon after,
feeling a renewed sense of amorous lechery. "I... want this."

        Taking that as more of an
invitation, Rodger gently pressed his full body against John's, taking
a moment to feel the situation out. He thought it would be
awkward... feel weird, maybe even feel wrong, but... it didn't. It
felt not only good, but... right. "I've never done this before..."
he whispered softly.

        "S'okay." John reassured.
"You won't break me."

        "That sounds like a challenge."
The brunette threw back with a very soft buck against the other's bare
back, amused. "Are you... sure?"

        "I am certain." He
whispered breathily, gently rubbing back against the other boy... then
softly into Kyrie, beneath.

        Rodger could hardly take
it any longer. So many glorious possibilities... But, first...
He'd only read about it... the less-than-perfect girlfriend he'd
had before Kyrie had introduced him (though not in the most pleasant of
ways) to watching it being done... He was simply nervous about making
it a bad experience for John. He couldn't very well just... dive
right in, obviously. Still, he had worries about proceeding... a
hand lightly tracing the half-devil's back, moving downward...

        "Go ahead." The silver-tressed
boy's voice was rough with lust... fear... anticipation. "May as
well get it all done in one swing, right?" Of course, he still didn't
believe that this was going to happen...

        Rodger knew better than
to take him too literally at his word. Even after all their time
together, Kyrie needed a bit of patience in that respect. He could
hardly imagine what damage was possible if he rushed with John, given the
obvious differences in the situation... But, then... "Ready?"

        "Please." The boy
beneath him purred. It was killing him at that very moment
not to give in and thrust ravenously into the cautious, understanding body
beneath... and the warm, trusted body above.

        Swallowing, the brunette
agreed. He began to back up, to reach under the couch cushions to
find a small "special stock" of Quistis' gifts...

        "It's okay." John
whispered again. "You can... you don't have to worry. About
anything."

        The request was frankly
a bit surprising... but got him all the hotter for it. Really, the
boy had just requested that he cum inside of him... and he smirked at his
wife's approving, soft moan at the situation. Alright, he could do
that... Taking a deep, very willing breath, he scooted closer to
the boy, taking note at the way Kyrie carefully held him against her body,
using very slow, shallow thrusts to keep him... "interested". Rodger's
reserve completely worn down by John's light moan at the brunette's hand
on his hip, he carefully used his other hand to spread his own "natural
lubrication" before pressing lightly but strongly inside.

        Many occurrences in Hell
hurt a lot more, to be certain... but this was an altogether strange sensation
blended in with the pain. He closed his eyes and willed himself to
relax, glad that Kyrie seemed to understand and stop moving underneath
him save reaching up to massage his shoulders softly the entire time.
The invasion itself was not at all pleasant--at first. Rodger was
going slowly, which had initially annoyed him but quickly made him realize
that it was utterly necessary for all of the sensations to come into play.

        Yes, the half-devil was
bleeding... but, not so deep down, he was certainly a masochist.
He began to enjoy the pain when it turned more to pleasure... though, even
then, it was hard to bear. His whimpering sounds were gasping, appreciative,
and it only kept the brunette going.

        By the time Rodger was fully
seated, John was breathing extremely hard, hands clenched to the point
where several patches of carpet suffered. It wasn't that it hurt,
so much anymore... although it did. It was the foreign feeling of
the entire situation, blended with the pleasure and the pain, the smells
and the sounds of other breathing... It
was not bad.
But it may take a while to fully gain an appreciation for. Regardless,
he tested out a very mild buck of his own.

        Parties on both sides quite
enjoyed the unexpected motion. But it was the boy behind him that
drew it further. First, one very slow thrust. Then, two, a
little harder, a little deeper...

        John's yell at the third
thrust was a surprise to all three of them. Not that it was a particularly
loud
yell, but his voice had broken with it. Rodger had hit a place John
hadn't even actually known existed--and it was good. His voice
torn into gruffness, he caught his breath enough to plead, "Oh, Jesus fucking--yes!--do
that again."

        The brunette chuckled and
followed orders. Strange, he'd never thought John the yelling type...
though he kind of enjoyed it. Kyrie made her pleasure obvious, but
never quite in a yelling sort of way...

        She caught her husband's
gaze, pleased and amused by the whole situation. Happy fucking
Birthday to me.

        John had already abandoned
any hope of seeming at all in control of the situation. His arms
were shaking, his entire body ignited by another hard thrust against
that glorious thing deep inside of him, gasping and moaning with
the sheer pleasure of it. He'd truly forgotten that he could move
at all... until a less than gentle reminder from below met the next thrust
from behind.

        The half-devil thought in
that moment that he very well might die if that happened again.
His breath caught at the sensations dueling for his attention--but they
wouldn't let him rest. Where his body momentarily faltered, they
picked up the slack for him. From below was the sheerness of pleasure,
tightness, heat--from above came a harsher pleasure born of pain and inexperience...

        They were holding him, but
at the same time had their arms wrapped around one another. They
kissed, around him... and then he felt not entirely delicate fingers winding
through his hair, lifting his head before Kyrie's eager lips claimed his
own. Carefully... questing... demanding, then... gentle...
Loving. All... loving...

        A second pair of lips against
his--to his surprise, he could tell the difference between them.
Both gloriously soft, both with their own style. He hadn't expected
Kyrie to be more forceful, to tell the truth... but then he would look
back on that moment and understand that he hadn't expected it to happen
like that at all. How they managed to plunder his mouth at the same
time was beyond him--and likely would be for some time...

        There was no way he could
last at their rhythm. Absolutely no way he could have stopped himself
from toppling. The warm body below him, engulfing him fully; the
body above, pounding an exceedingly sensitive spot inside of him; the closeness
and pleasure of all of it... it became utterly impossible to hold on.
With a few more quick thrusts himself, he was gone to the world in a long,
loud shout of absolution.

        Kyrie felt him quicken and
seize--using his moment of ecstasy and body stiffness to ride herself right
on home. To see that open-mouthed look of pleasure, to hear that
breathy cry of release... it was amazing.

        Rodger held on as long as
he possibly could, but the end had already wrapped around him tightly,
squeezing for all it was worth. The warmth, the grasping muscles,
the sound of his wife's and the beautiful boy's call of lust was too much.
He collapsed on top, the intensity of his release robbing him even of consciousness
for a moment.

        All was silent, save breathing.
Then, a little bit of consciousness came into play... the warmth, the pleasure,
the joy... and slowly coming out of it still surrounded by two pairs of
arms was... so...

        "Good." John certainly
didn't see much need for further conversation.

        Neither did the other two,
really. It was a long time before any of them actually moved, let
alone understood the difference between ecstasy and coherency. Somehow,
they'd managed to collectively wind up in a comfortable pile of arms and
legs... that was enough, for a long time.

        "I've got to ask something."
John's voice finally drifted through, sounding somewhat aware of his surroundings.

        "Shoot." Kyrie invited,
feeling a general sense of... good.

        "Already did." He
quipped quickly. "About that question, though." It was one
he'd wanted to ask for so long that he'd almost forgotten it--until that
moment when all was blank. "What... exactly... I mean... about...
Vincent... what... the fuck?"

        His phrasing was pitch-perfect,
and she giggled like a loon (albeit a tired loon) for a very long time.
"I don't know what it is. But it is." She responded honestly.

        He could accept that, alright.
"Doesn't the claw kind of weird you out, though?"

        Rodger joined in the laughter.
"It's kinky." He answered for her.

        "Does it vibrate?" the half-devil
teased.

        Hm. Odd that she couldn't
answer either way. "You know, I didn't ask."

        Her husband gasped.
"I'm surprised at you, Kyrie!"

        "I'm sure I ought to be
ashamed." She admitted.

        "Yeah, but you never are."
Rodger teased.

        Silence passed after the
tired giggles died... until John decided he may as well ask. No harm
in knowing. "So... does this mean your my bitch next time, Rodger?"

        Funny as the question was,
he felt as if he had to clear things up a little. "You weren't my
bit--"

        "That's right." Kyrie
interrupted. "You're
my bitch."

        "My mistake." John
feigned backing off, feeling perfectly comfortable with the half-answer
given.

        Another long, wonderful
moment of silence fell over them as they rested... though, Kyrie had to
admit that her arm was falling asleep from the somewhat hard floor underneath.
That, and she was tired... in the best of ways. For the best of reasons.
"I'm going to bed, dammit."

        "Should sleep here... comfy..."
Rodger trailed off.

        "Satin sheets are more comfy."
She responded, making a weak attempt at sitting up.

        "...True."

        How they'd managed to make
it up the stairs was unimportant--the fact they'd made it at all was the
accomplishment. The fact John could climb onto the bed on his own
was a real accomplishment... but they'd all agreed that Rodger could
and should be the first to go "clean up", so the other two really had nothing
better to do than lay on the bed and wait.

        And... well, talk.
Kyrie struck up the conversation, seeing that it seemed John needed a little
distraction from the ache as he healed. "You don't have to
wear that collar, y'know..."

        "I like it." He responded,
sounding more comfortable than she'd expected.

        "Well. Okay, then."
She agreed. She wasn't about to have him wear it just on her... preference.

        "I can get a tag for it,
for your birthday." He winked.

        Not that she didn't appreciate
the thought, certainly. "You're not my possession, John."

        "Oh, I know that."
He waved off.

        "And you're not just a toy,
either." Her voice was quiet... serious.

        Her words gave him just
the courage he'd needed. "I l--"

        She placed a fingertip over
his lips before he could complete his statement. "Don't say it."

        He blinked at her interruption.
"Even though it's true?"

        "Especially because it's
true." She admitted, nearly under her breath.

        That was... odd. Surprising.
Almost... unlike her, in a way. "Why not? Don't you want to
hear it?"

        She shook her head; it wasn't
that...
"I didn't want this to have to be... one of those things where anyone feels
obligated to say anything. Ever. Nor should it be a... birthday
present."

        Ah, he understood... but
why would she think..? "It's not like that. Not either of those
things at all."

        "Those puppy dog eyes aren't
going to work, demon spawn." She teased, knowing things had almost
gotten a little too intense for a moment there.

        So he flashed his Killer
Grin of Utmost Charm, instead. "Is the great Kyrie Almasy Leonhart
Kinneas afraid of someone else proclaiming their heart's truest devotion?"

        She wasn't sure what she
was more astounded by--his poetic phrase or the fact that he'd gotten her
full name right. In fact, it made her pause for too long to block
his words.

        "I love you, Ky. We
don't have to make a habit of saying it, but you oughta know, s'all."

        She accepted his sentiment
without argument, but met it with curiosity. "What brought this up?"

        --Wait. "Aren't you
forgetting something?"

        Cheeky bastard.
"Nope." She grinned slightly, refusing to return his words if only
to annoy him.

        "Aw, c'mon. Give me
some satisfaction, woman!"

        Her smirk was cutting.
Well, since he asked so nicely. "I love you--r sexy sexy hair."

        He crossed his arms and
pouted with a grunt.

        Well... if he insisted.
It wasn't said because he'd pulled it from her; it was true. It had
been for some time, merely in silence. "I love you too, John."

        With that out of the way,
he answered her previous question. "Seemed... appropriate.
I dunno. Rodger and I were talking."

        "Always dangerous."
A phrase the three of them knew and loved together.

        "You bet." He agreed.
"Just got me to thinking. I've been here for a while, and... it was
always more than sex. Told him so."

        That was... surprising...
"You didn't tell
him before you told me."

        "You're a fucking lot more
intimidating, okay?" he defended, hands up.

        Well, that made her laugh.
She reached out and tussled his hair lightly. "Better believe it."

        It was then that the bathroom
door opened, Rodger emerging with the continued look of worn-out contentment
from earlier. "Alright, I'm done."

        "Took you long enough.
Considering what just happened, anyway." John teased, getting up
to use "the facilities".

        As the door closed, the
brunette took the empty place at his wife's side, pulling her close.
"Have fun, birthday girl?"

        "Holy fucked-up Hyne,
yes." She uttered in total honesty.

        That made him chuckle.
"I'm glad." He rested his head on her shoulder for a moment... and
then another. Almost too long, really, but... he'd been thinking.
He didn't know whether he should bring it up or not, but... after so long
of a silence, he realized she wasn't about to let it pass. "Do something
for me, though?" he whispered, to her alone.

        Strange, to say the least...
but the tone of his voice bade her listen carefully. "Hm?"

        "Stop leaving me out of
it." He requested softly. "Please... I want all of you."
He closed his eyes, trying to find words that would express what he really
needed. "I don't... want you to face these things alone anymore.
I can handle
some of it at least, huh?"

        He wanted to know... all
of the insane shit she'd tried to keep him away from... tried to keep him
safe from... On one hand, she wanted to completely refuse, but...
She understood his request. "Is that really what you want?"

        "So much, Ky." He
wrapped his arms around her, nearly pleading. "I want it so much..."

        "Okay." She promised,
holding him back just as tightly. If that was... really what he wanted...
she would not deny him. "But I... don't want it to... hurt..." she
tried to put her thoughts into words, finding it nearly impossible to simplify
all of the shit she'd been through in recent years.

        "I was with you from the
beginning." He reminded her.

        "You had no idea what you
were getting into." She half-joked... half made him admit to himself...

        "I had a choice."
It was a solid insistence.

        "And yet you stayed.
You fool." She joked.

        "I am devoted." He
grinned, nuzzling the side of her neck softly.

        "Supposedly." She
threw back, closing her eyes. Even though he was smiling, even though
she enjoyed it, wanted to keep joking with him... she couldn't help the
melancholy pain that crept into her heart just then. "I love you."
She whispered it, almost afraid to say it too loudly and bring about apocalypse.

        He only held her tighter,
doing everything in his power to show her that he'd keep her safe... away
from her pain. "I love you, too."

        She smiled lightly at their
evolution past some conversations. There was no need to vocalize
the reassurances, the promises... They were always there. Always
would be. And they both knew with no doubt.

        The bathroom door opened,
the light falling over them--right before John's voice rose in mock-annoyance.
"I can't believe you rabbits are starting again without me."

        She was not normally one
to get late night snacks. They just didn't appeal to her, really.
Unless it was a particularly exhausting "session with the boys", but even
then... that was what sleep and breakfast were for, mostly.

        She was hungry, though,
dammit. Hungry and a little unwilling to sleep... at least, not without
a few moments by herself.

        Being as quiet as possible,
she admired the moonlight through the never-quite-closed curtains as it
speckled the carpet and couch. Well... it was nice...
Maybe she could forgo the snack (and the extra fifteen minutes of training
it would take to disappear, no doubt) and just... lay there for a moment.
Too pretty not to revel in for a little while.

        It was upon walking to the
couch that something about the front window seemed to catch her eye.
Nothing in particular, really--looked more like a firefly had passed in
front of it. Still... call it paranoia, but she wanted to make sure
it wasn't the flash of a car's lights of someone delivering yet more unsettling
news upon her--

        And then it flickered.
The glass itself became iridescent liquid--reaching for her.

        Never in her life had something
so mind-fuckingly terrifying happened. Not like that, never
like--

        She stumbled backward, unable
to make a sound, unable to think even enough to avoid the furniture.
Pure animal instinct possessed her, told her to run, to put distance
between herself and this thing she did not understand to survive.

        Eyes gone wide, adrenaline
pumping, her chest rising and falling with breathing she'd never had on
the worst training days, she backed away quickly; but did not look
away. Even before her mind was capable of registering it, she bore
witness to... someone... stepping through the shimmering liquid
glass.

        Panic was dulled only slightly
by curiosity; it was a figure, alright. Human-ish... tall... entirely
hidden within a hooded cloak.

        Her back hit the kitchen
doorway, very nearly wrangling a shuddering cry from her throat--but the
constant, severe beat of adrenaline and readied Materia was starting to
part ways to render some odd, unknown piece of memory available if only
she would take the time to examine it... And, granted, that was a
little fucking hard in the situation.

        The form, though... the
cloak... Granted it was dark, it was shocking, her mind did not want
to break past the wall of primal survival instinct, but... she could not
deny... Even with her back to the kitchen doorway, still trying to
decide to fight or flee... she knew it. Deep down. She could
not speak it... could not ask...

        "You're... her... aren't
you?" the form inquired for her. The voice was... ragged... ancient...
but youthful, at the same time. Male. Soft. Questing
so desperately for something... "You touched..." it seemed as if
the name itself took a great deal of force and concentration to bring forth
upon the world, "S-Sora's heart..?"

        She didn't want to answer.
Hyne,
how she did not want to listen to the words, let alone
answer
the question... But she knew who it was with no doubt. No second-guesses,
no uncertainty. Slowly sliding back up the wall into a full standing
position, she could not help but confirm it. "Ri--... Riku?"

        The form flinched as if
stricken. His answer was slow to come and quiet. "Yes."

        She nodded, then.
Still terrified, in a way... perhaps even moreso than she was before.
It must have been obvious by then; she'd already answered him by
her reaction. Panic ensued, if only because she could feel the aura
of wrongness that he carried with him... alone. "Where's Sora?"

        A shudder grasped his body.
Oh, if only she knew how long he'd been asking that same question...
"I'm sorry..." he whispered, taking only one step toward her. The
distance was still great, and he would allow it to be... but she needed
to know how serious he was. "He needs your help."

        It starts! The plot,
it thickens... even though nothing's really been revealed yet... but it
still works, I think. I've come to realize that I'm the only person,
in the history of all things, that could actually start out with the intention
of writing a completely disturbing, dirty, angst- and sex-ridden squick
fic in the
Final Fantasy VIII universe, only to have it turn out
to be five stories long, revolving around original characters and
Final
Fantasy VII cast members, mixed with Devil May Cry and Kingdom
Hearts universes, and actually involves plot. What the
hell is wrong with me?

        Don't answer that.

        If you'd like to be e-mailed
when I update, drop me a line (orin(at)sephain.com) with whatever story/stories/website
you'd like me to inform you of.
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Ties that Bind and Tear Apart