Adult-FanFiction.org : Final Fantasy

All of Us Monsters	By : ub3rschnitzel Category: Final Fantasy VII > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 870 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Final Fantasy VII, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 5
- 6
- 7
Disclaimer: I don't own SquareEnix or any of their Squaresoft
characters. I don't own Advent Children, or else I would be rich. I
don't own Cloud, Fenrir (his bike), Vincent, or any of Cloud's many many many
swords. Final Fantasy VII: Advent Children I have seen through the
generosity of others, and not because I begged them to.. well, maybe a little.
It was hard to get a hold of.
Author's Notes: Tons of spoilers. For those of you who
have seen the movie, you might understand where this could be coming from.
I've recieved lots of good words for this on the Livejournal Community acfiction.
Chapter 6
The blonde warrior's hand remained extended as I stared. An unbidden quiver
raced down my spine. His eyes took me in, waiting patiently. My clothes? I could
never reach them unless I wanted to push him into the wall to grab them. Cloud's
feet were set an even, strong space apart on the floor. He would not stand aside
for any reason.

"Why?" I whispered hoarsely. My legs quivered with weakness. I was starving; I
was passionate.

"Just come here." I detected his annoyance. Rather than spark his irritation
further, I decided to grudgingly comply. When I came near, he took a towel from
the little laundry closet in the wall and unfolded it quietly in his hands. He
rested this on my shoulder, directed me to the chair by the sink. He brushed
aside the magazines onto the floor and pulled it out, and very firmly pushed me
into a seating position.

He let me adjust the towel around my waist. I was thankful for that, but my
uncooperative arousal did not make much the difference. Cloud brought another
towel forward. He dropped it unceremoniously over my head and then
vigorously began to dry off my sopping hair.

I tolerated the slight discomfort as my head was turned this way and that.
Expertly the man massaged my hair between toweled hands. He took the brush from
the beside the black marbled sink and began to work at the knots, which gave way
easily thanks to the over-abundance of conditioner. Gradually I felt the tension
leave my scalp, the treatment I recieved beginning to loosen the knots in my
shoulders and my neck. He was gentle, but decisive. Gradually, between drying my
hair and combing it, I relaxed beneath his ministrations.

"Why are you doing this?" I murmured drowsily.

He moved impatiently from one foot to the other, brushed his hand through my
hair once, and stepped back to critique his handiwork like a starving artist
reviewing a possible seller. His topaz eyes reviewed his work as he spoke.

"You taking care of me those times... You want to repent, don't you?" He flicked
the brush aside, and it landed neatly back onto the sink without disturbing the
bottles of face wash and mouthwash, perfume and lotions.

I said nothing. I felt dreadfully naked without my cloak. Mournfully I peered
past his arm toward the neatly folded pile with my guns on top of them. "Cloud,
may I get dressed now?"

"I don't know." He sounded uncertain. Those topaz eyes watched me closely.
He cocked his hip to one side, leaning it against the sink while he stroked his
hair thoughtfully. I stood up with a growl of annoyance. I let the towels fall
away, and stepped toward him, leaning close to him so that I could reach past
him toward my waiting belongings. My fingertips brushed the cloth.

Cloud seized my shoulders, and pushed me back gently. I lurched forward, meeting
his hard eyes with my own. I forged ahead, thrusting my shoulder into his chest.
He jerked me back again, and at that moment he turned me and pushed me into cold
marble.
While I struggled to regain control of the terrific shriekings in my blood
from what was going on, I wondered at the folly of it all. The way Cloud
seemed to ignore everything that told him how unfair and how deeply tragic we
were, and wrong this all was. I could not understand his reasoning at all,
and I refused to acknowledge that for once, maybe Cloud did love me, and it
wasn't just a dying man's wishful dream to have one, true lover before his
disease stole him away. Tifa deserved to spend this time with him, not me;
I was the shadow that followed that long time with his party in the name of
vengeance, justice. Those things that I thought I had believed in.
Protect Cloud? I could no sooner stop death than resurrect Aerith
Gainsborough herself.
Lucrecia, I thought, forgive me for this, my unclean, jealous
heart, saying and thinking all of these things but not living by them like the
cursed fool that I always was.

My nervous system reeled from the shock of cold stone on my bare skin, the smell
of him surrounding me. He leaned close. My claw scraped the stone. His eyes
softened for a few moments, his lips brushing my own. My passion stirred, and
the pain in my back from his forceful pushing rose a notch, as well as the
conflicting pain in my heart.

"Do you want to be forgiven?" he asked quietly, his soft mouth traveling to my
cheek. His hair tickled my brow. I shuddered, pushing against his chest.

"Yes... but not... not like this. Stop it." Why did my voice sound so weak?

"Do you want my forgiveness, Vincent?" he repeated. This time he slid his arm
around my waist, and stabbing knife in my back blessedly ceased. He
effortlessly lifted me off the floor, adjusted my weight onto the sink as he
stood between my legs. It was not a wall fixture, but still I was ridiculously
concerned that I might break it.

He pulled off his gloves with decidedly slow deliberation. It seemed
everything I saw was through a dim haze that clouded my vision, and only he was
clear, my rugged eyed, soft-skinned lover. He set them
aside, before setting his warm, strong hands against my quaking thighs. He
leaned close, and I met his mouth without any recourse at all. My arms slid around his
shoulders, into his hair, against his scalp that prickled in response. I breathed hard, and he pulled back,
then forward, his tongue laving
hungrily at my throat. I was hard, and he was so good at this, so wonderful, so
quiet, that I was convinced I was dreaming of being made love to. I
half-prayed I had passed out on the bathroom floor, that maybe this was a
phantasm, nothing more, no harm in it, and a moan crawled out of my throat like
a prayer.
His fingers rubbed
into my muscled thighs, giving a distracting counterpoint at his lips sucked and
pulled at my skin.

I could do nothing. My chest ached from breathing like this, but it was for
Cloud that I did not resist. I loved the feel of him, his voice murmuring softly
against my chest, the sure and confident hands that stroked back and forth along
my skin. My loins ached for him; he knew it too well. He licked a dark,
caramel-brown nipple as if it were a delicate flower, admiring its texture not
only with his fingertips but with tongue and teeth and smell and breath, all
attached to my loins; there was no escape from it. It was slightly painful when ,
mostly pleasurable. I arched my back, panting softly.

"Cloud..."
I don't deserve him, I thought wildly. Why is he doing this?
For himself, maybe. He understood my need for him, that watching him,
sympathizing from shadows was no longer enough for either of us. He knew
all along that I was there, watching, and Cloud's wait had only been rewarded by
this, me, his prize, awakening something in me long dead... and it was hungry
for the attention.

"Mm." He flicked his tongue, circled the flesh gently. I tugged on his hair,
spreading my legs as much as I could. He moved his touch to the insides of my
thighs, gripping my right knee to keep me steady.

"Cloud." His tongue worked, shifting as he turned and suddenly grasped the other
nipple, his fingertips dancing along my length. I panted into his hair, and my
pelvic bone jerked toward him in earnest.

"Do you love me?" he breathed quietly. Oh, gods, he was killing me...

I fought to answer. There was a stitch in my side, and my legs were beginning to
ache as they strained against his forceful hands, dripping with desire and
covered in moisture that was not just water, but sweat, and saliva from his
roaming, demanding mouth. I could not answer like this; it wasn't fair.
I hated him suddenly, using me like this, and then I understood.
Frustration and answers I couldn't give were the atonement for my mistake that
night at the ocean village inn. Love wore dark shades covered in mud, and
it did not see clearly at all.

He released my leg. I straightened my back with a gasp as my still-cracked ribs adjusted, and
my voice rose with my pain. He watched with a tight and concerned look on his
face. When I relaxed again, panting with my head against the mirror, his hands
came back and stroked my face. I held loosely to his jacket.

"It hurts to sit up here," I complained gently. I wanted to
laugh at myself. Crying sounded fine, too, but equally deplorable.

"I know. Let's get you down."

He gripped my waist, and slid me from the sink. My feet touched the floor and I
felt a hint of disorientation. His arms steadied me, his strength comforted me.
I cowered against him. I lost track of time when he pulled me back to the chair
and set me down on the still dampened towel. His body descended into view
as he crouched in front of me, the lights of the bathroom making his eyes shine
and his halo of fair, golden hair glow.

His mouth was on me again. He was gentle, so very gentle, satin lips and tongue and his voice
caressing and soothing my quiet sobs. "It's okay, Vincent," he said quietly. He
stroked my forehead, smirking quietly at my pleading eyes, my desperate, tense
sigh.

He leaned up and pressed his forehead to mine gently before he knelt down again.
He kissed my abdomen warmly. My voice betrayed me when I had no wish to hold it
back, clenching back a moan behind aching teeth. He met the tip of my full and aching erection and slid it neatly past his
teeth into his mouth. Rippling pleasure spiralled outward, through my limbs,
consuming heat, and I cried out for more, pushing back with yes, give me
more, more of that.
He
uttered a moan as he crushed me into the chair, his hands pressing down my hips.
In turn I gripped his arms, watching in whimpering delight as he sucked and pulled,
precise muscle and teeth touching and grazing all the right places.

I didn't hear anything. But gradually I found an intruding touch pressing,
probing... He slid me toward him. And with a final, agonizing lick he pulled up sharp,
and watched my eyes as he worked his way inside of me with his soft, encouraging
words and touches. He spread me open, and when I was ready he slid himself
inside, his leather pants pushed down lower on his carved hips.

And gods, he looked beautiful. We moved back together, from the chair, and
he held me close, tenderly, as though I were a porcelaine thing that might break
if he held too tight. I writhed, and with a loud screech he pushed the chair
against the wall to support us. He leaned his hand above my head, and slowly,
purposefully pumped himself in and out, guiding his motions with the clumsy
eagerness of a virgin and I realized that he was far too precise, even in his
clumsy eagerness, to be such a thing, but before I could wonder who had claimed
him first, he nipped my lower lip with a distracting, tenor-voice moan. He filled me, rubbed inside, pressed, and my voice rose
as my unwilling counter to his hard thrusts.

My breathless cries for relase did not go completely unanswered. His eyes
glistened, concentrating fully upon our tangled limbs, his kisses colliding
almost desperately against my lips again and again, all harsh sounds and
desperate, clinging hope.
He brought me
close, and it was something like standing under the sunlight on a mountain - so
close to heaven, and so close to falling if you reached too far, and his name
came shuddering out of me, thick with warning.
"Cloud... I...I'm going to--"
"Shh" he said
and slowly let me come down again, then with a skill that went wholly
unmatched, brought me into a sweating, writhing mess of moaning for a second
time. I pulled on his hair in agitation. He snatched my wrist and pushed it down again,
grunting at the pain I had caused; he worked harder.

His hands were worse. Gripping at the base, pulling at the tip, tracing veins. I
bucked frantically and my pants became cries again, my tongue fencing, darting,
rubbing against his as he tilted his head and shifted the angle, twisting us
around, placing me against the floor, skin so hot I didn't even notice the cold.
This delicious, new angle broke the dam of renewed cries I had been trying to
keep inside.
His fingers tensed, raking along a tangle of nerves that set the rest of my
flesh on hellfire. Oh please, oh please ohpleasepleaseplease--
And all too quickly I came with a
wrenching groan of ecstacy, my head lightly hitting the tiled floor. He cried out with
me, sympathetic to my orgasm, and I felt him shudder inside my tight, thoroughly
wetted walls...
Both of us, like this, and Cloud still alive, still warm and alive and
vibrant, nevermind his scars, his pain, immutable debt that he owed to friends
and family. He whimpered, as if in pain, kissed my shoulder. I
whispered something unintelligible, something important, and forgot immediately
what it was.

He gradually slipped away from me. He slipped his pants up again and said
nothing to me as he quickly applied cloth to undo the sticky mess that he - no,
both of us - had made. I was numb; my legs stretched apart and my hands hung at
my sides. The warrior returned and without so much as asking, lifted me from the
cold whiteness and took me outside into the
bed again.

The sheets felt cold. I was tired, all of my strength gone, my reserves utterly
drained. Kissing my forehead, he tucked the blankets
around my waist, his touch gentle, kind. Everything I hadn't expected from
him. There was a distinct pain veiled behind his calm, sober demeanor.

"You were good to me," he said softly as he stood back, exuding an
aura of withdrawn, meditative sadness.

"Stay," I whispered. "Tell me, you've forgiven me?"

Cloud said nothing. He looked at me, quiet and thoughtful. I was frightened of
the certainty in his expression. The self-assured smile on his lips. I could not
believe that he had smiled at me.

"Go back to sleep," he said at last, and he reached over to turn off the lamp.
- 5
- 6
- 7
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All of Us Monsters