Trinity | By : Jamaica Category: Final Fantasy VII > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 771 -:- 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. |
Author's Note:
FFVII belongs to Square-Enix, so do its characters. The story belongs to me.
This is an AU tale, obvious pairings from the beginning, and believe me, what
you see is what you get. Two points of difference: one, Vincent is not a
vampire. Two, I made Cloud taller. He had always seem taller than five foot
seven to me, even when I was playing the game and saw AC pics, so here he's five
ten. Let's not make him too obvious of an uke, shall we?
Trinity
One
“Sir!”
The
soldier at the door saluted, his voice loud and clear. A bit unnecessarily loud,
in fact, Zack thought. He glanced at his companion and fellow general, wondering
what reason could the white-haired man have for this visit. They had just
received an order to retreat, directly from the Prime Minister. Their victory
against the Avalanche was a costly one, and Zack knew the soldiers could all use
a bit of respite. The forces were scattered after the battle at Orion. He and
Sephiroth were supposed to gather up and condense Zack’s troops, making Orion
the new holdout, about 70 kilometers closer than their previous position at
Ancen. Zack was sure the Prime Minister would want an assault on Nadia next, but
to take down the heart of the Holy Land requires the army to be at a much
stronger state than the present.
Which
did not explain at all why would Sephiroth, instead of going directly to the
comm station and inform the divisions, and Zack himself going straight to his
horse and round up the troops near the edge of the battlefield, had somehow
ended up in front of this tent. Major Cloud Strife’s tent, to be exact.
Sephiroth had requested Zack to show him the location, and Zack, albeit curious
but knew better than to question Sephiroth’s inquiries, obliged at once. He
figured this would be explained later, if he really cared enough to ask. They
had been comrades long enough.
“Is
Major Strife in there?” Zack asked.
“Uh
. . . yes, sir. He is, but . . .” the soldier fumbled.
Zack
raised an eyebrow. He glanced at the tent door, into the lit crack between the
fabric pieces. “This is General Sephiroth. He needs to see the major. Is there
a problem?”
The
soldier visibly paled. “Um, uh, sir, he is a bit . . . busy . . . at the
moment.”
Zack
looked at Sephiroth, and the other general looked back pointedly. Well, there
goes any argument, Zack thought. “Step aside, private, I’m sure whatever
Major Strife’s doing, he could spare a few moments.”
The
soldier did not look any less rattled, but saluted dutifully and stepped aside.
Zack walked forward, lifting up one of the flaps and felt the warm air inside
hit him squarely on the face. He looked up, expecting to see the major at his
desk pouring over maps, but came completely to a halt at the scene in front of
him, and stared with his mouth wide open.
On
the small makeshift bed inside the tent lay a very naked Major Cloud Strife. His
ever-defiant spiky blond hair a mess now on the pillow, soaked with sweat. His
face a mask of pure ecstasy, if the breathy moans escaping from his lips were
any indication. He was wrapped around an equally naked brunet, fingers entwined
in the mass of long brown hair, as his arms stretched across the man’s back.
The soldier on top (there were no civilians around) had his face buried in the
major’s neck, probably leaving trails of marks on the junction below one ear.
He was on his hands and knees, sprawled on the bedspread and rocking back and
forth, as the blonde’s legs under him tensed in sync with the rhythm. A thin
film of sweat covered both bodies, making their skin shine dully under the
filtered sunlight. Labored breathing permeated the room. The bed creaked
steadily, the covers were strewn to the side, one end dangling onto the floor as
the air surrounding it drank in the heavy scent of sex floating above the
once-clean bedspread.
Zack
blinked. Twice, before he remembered that there was someone else standing beside
him and a definite reason for their visit. He cleared his throat, directing his
gaze toward the left wall and suppressing a laugh, then waited.
“God,
David,” the blonde snapped, “what the hell do you want?”
“Sorry
to interrupt, Major, but . . .” Zack answered with a straight face.
He
saw the brunet on top immediately stilled, a quiet gasp escaped him as he looked
up at the entrance, eyes wide open in shock. Zack himself did a double take.
“Lieutenant Valentine?!” His voice sounded just as incredulous as he felt.
The brunet blanched.
“Ah, shi-” he heard the blonde curse as Vincent Valentine
quickly scooted backwards, dragging a sheet with him to cover up his privates.
Cloud Strife sat straight up and began to reach for his scattered clothes,
littered around the bed area. Zack recovered from his surprise and finally let
out the laughter he had been holding in for the past few minutes, doubling up
and grabbing onto a tent pole for support.
“Well,”
He said between breaths, “I see you have no problem unwinding after a battle,
soldiers.”
There
were worse situations, Vincent was sure. The battle just past, for example,
where he stayed in the trench for a good two days and a night, eating nothing
and drinking from only one canteen of water. They were supposed to ambush the
enemy forces within the camp, when the besieged reach their breaking point and
decide to try to fight through. Vincent, being the second lieutenant, was
supposed to lead his division, literally the first person sticking his head out
of the safety of the trench once the enemy decides to move out. The first
person, the first target.
He
remembered trembling slightly from the cold, legs numb from staying crouched for
so long, and his fingers holding onto the wooden rosary as he always did before
a crucial battle. And was it crucial! They had Orion within their grasp. Vincent
could feel it touching his fingertips. His men lay with him, quiet and
breathless as the wind howled on the plains. Vincent wasn’t scared, but he’d
be damned if he denied his anxiety. A churning feeling roamed inside his
stomach, and his heart stayed at his throat, leaving a huge air gap between the
two organs. Vincent was, if anything, sitting on the edge with his wits barely
intact.
Now,
inside his – Cloud’s – overly warm tent, standing in his sleep pants
beside his fellow soldier, who was clad in only a pair of boxers and a loose
shirt as two generals poured over them, Vincent decided there really aren’t
that many situations worse than this. He shifted his weight, the previous
activities had left a strain on his knees and Vincent didn’t want to think
about the irony. Well, he tried to comfort, at least we’re in this together.
“This
is General Sephiroth,” General Zack lounged in his chair. “I’m sure his
name is not unfamiliar to you, Lieutenant.”
“No,
sir.” Vincent replied. Who hasn’t heard of the great general
Sephiroth? The man has never lost a battle. Shinra’s potential capture of the
Holy Land would be inconceivable without him. To say that Vincent was very
uncomfortable with the idea of this General Sephiroth walking in on him
and Cloud was a severe understatement.
The
general was a truly a sight to behold. The long platinum hair was pulled back in
a high ponytail, leaving two strands free above the thin arched eyebrows. It
gave the man an eerily cold air, as if the unusual color was the only barrier
restraining his brute strength. A pair of demon-ridden eyes, sharp and focused,
looked down upon the young soldiers. Vincent felt as if two high-powered
searchlights went through him, glowing with jade and edged with steel, and
centered directly onto his soul. He heard his heart thumping loudly in his ears
and suppressed a shudder.
“Is
there something you need to discuss with Major Strife?” Zack spoke up, turning
to face Sephiroth. The white-haired man nodded.
“Yes.
Major Cloud Strife,” he said to Cloud, who stood up straighter when his name
was called. “I want to recruit you back to my division.”
What?
Vincent was alarmed. Now? When they just scored a victory at Orion, thanks to
the major’s brilliant efforts? Cloud can’t leave! They needed him here. He
needed him here.
Apparently
he wasn’t the only one with the problem. Zack frowned and leaned forward, his
elbows on the chair arms. “Wait, when’s this decided?”
“Just
now,” Sephiroth replied.
“Don’t
I get any say in this?”
Sephiroth
settled back against the chair’s cushions. “Go ahead.”
Zack
scoffed lightly. “Well, first of all, Major Cloud Strife had been a valuable
asset to my troops. This victory wouldn’t have been possible without him. I
certainly do not wish for him to leave this place, especially since we’re opt
to attack Nadia any time now.” He paused slightly. “Is this already
official?”
Sephiroth
shook his head. “No.”
“Then
can’t you wait a little bit before he had to go join you in Mana?”
Good
Lord, Vincent sweated. Mana was about as close to Shinra City as war could
allow, and consequently more than three weeks travel on horseback from where
they currently were. If Cloud got rerouted there, it was pretty much farewell,
because neither could possibly spare time to visit each other, not even meeting
halfway. Vincent prayed for General Zack’s intervention.
“No,”
answered General Sephiroth, “my division is no longer at Mana. They’re on
their way here.”
Zack’s
eyes widened. “What?”
“General,”
Sephiroth folded his hands together, “why do you think I’ve come to you?
Just to chat and catch up on old days? I’ve been reassigned to join forces
with you and secure this hold point. Also, if we’re going to take Nadia, we
should at least combine our powers, don’t you think?”
The
surprise washed off of Zack’s face and broke into a grin. “You old
trickster, you’ve been holding out on me! Why didn’t you tell me when you
first got here?”
Sephiroth
leaned back, stretching out his long legs on the limited floor space. “Does
this mean Major Strife’s transfer have been approved?”
Zack
sighed. “I suppose. Not like I could’ve stopped you anyway. O Mighty Lord
Sephiroth, thy words are law.”
He
was openly mocking him, but Sephiroth only chuckled at Zack’s antics. “Well,
since you said it. Major Strife,” he turned to the blonde, but not before
sparing a glance at Vincent. “My first order for you: you’re to help General
Zack gather up any and all scattered troops around Orion. Get dressed.”
“Yes
sir.” Cloud saluted, then proceeded to the table, where all of his clothes lay
in a bundle, and quickly dressed himself. Vincent listened to the rustle,
knowing fully well which button Cloud’s going to clasp first and how the
complicated buckle of his belt snap together. His stance was a little bit
relaxed, after hearing the transfer did not involve an immediate and permanent
relocation of his lover. Vincent almost sighed in relief.
Zack
stood up and yawned, stretching his limbs out to the ceiling. “Oh, man, you
gotta leave the fucking ground work to me, huh? What’re you doing then,
contacting your own troops?”
“No,”
Sephiroth replied. “I have some business to discuss with . . . Lieutenant
Valentine, is it?”
Vincent’s
felt his heart skip a beat. He thought he was being paranoid about the general,
about how those eyes never seemed to leave him even though Sephiroth’s
blatantly looking elsewhere. Vincent heard the fumbling of a belt and knew
Cloud’s attention was on them, too. Vincent gathered his own wits and retained
his own composure, trying not to let anyone in the room know there was anything
amiss.
“Come
on, Major,” Zack suddenly said, “let’s go. We still got soldiers out
there.”
“Yes,
sir. Coming, sir.” Cloud replied hastily. He followed the general to the
entrance, throwing back a concerned glance toward Vincent on his way out.
Another quick order from Zack hurried him, and Cloud lifted the flap and
disappeared into the red evening sun.
Now
left alone with only General Sephiroth in the small confined space, Vincent
began to feel a pressure building at his temples. The general hadn’t moved,
simply stared hard at him in his sitting position. If looks could kill, Vincent
was sure he’d be dead a couple of times over. However, the neutral expression
remained firm on his face, his body rigid and his eyes staring straight ahead
with undivided attention.
Inside,
he was utterly terrified.
Sephiroth
looked over the young man standing in the middle of the room. Long dark-brown
hair cascaded down the shoulders, nicely framing the high cheekbones and the
pointed chin. The large eyes showed supreme intelligence, although right now
they seemed a bit shaky, Sephiroth thought. The body was well toned, as expected
of every soldier; the only thing marring the pale flawless skin was a large and
distinct scar on the young man’s left arm. It was wide and jagged, took up the
entire length of the arm from wrist to collarbone. Looked like someone had taken
a knife with nails stuck on the side and simply dragged it down the flesh.
Even
with that, the boy was a fine-looking soldier if there ever were one.
Not
bad, Strife, Sephiroth thought dryly. Not bad at all. In fact, I’d say you’d
exceeded my expectations at both finding someone quickly and finding someone
this good. He let a sneer creep up his features, not missing the quick glance
from the brown eyes as the young soldier kept his attention stance.
“At
ease, Lieutenant,” he finally said, standing up from his chair and walked a
few steps toward the brunet.
The
young man obeyed, but didn’t seem to be breathing any lighter. Sephiroth
chuckled. He knew the certain kind of effect he had on others. Good. Makes
things much easier.
“How
long has this been going on?” The general asked casually.
The
young man gave him a questioning look.
Oh
come on, don’t play stupid. Sephiroth waited. The lieutenant’s eyes met his
for a second, then moved off to a nonexistent spot toward the right. “Two
years.”
“Two
years?” His surprise was genuine. “It’s been going on for two years
and General Zack is not aware of it?”
“Sir,
with all due respect,” the lieutenant replied calmly, “there are other
things for General Zack to focus on than a soldier’s personal life. As do most
others.”
Not
a dull tongue, this one. Sephiroth cocked his head sideways, trying to figure
out what exactly is the character of Lieutenant Valentine. “What’s your full
name, Lieutenant?”
A
pause. Then, “Vincent Valentine, sir.”
“Well,
Vincent,” Sephiroth crossed his arms. “You should know, then, that things
such as . . . personal affairs . . . are not exactly within the tolerance of the
army code.”
He
began walking, circling around the brunet in just slow enough pace to make the
scrutinized uncomfortable. The brunet said nothing, and Sephiroth couldn’t
help but smirk in satisfaction. “There should be some consequences to
such actions, don’t you agree?”
He
got behind the soldier and stopped, watching as the muscles on Vincent’s back
tensed in reflex. “You have nothing to say?” He pushed, and walked closer,
letting his breath hit the brown strands splayed on the back.
Still
no answer. Maybe this Vincent knew he’s bullshitting. If Zack had recruited
him, then undoubtedly he must have read the code front to back many times.
Sephiroth decided to change strategy. “Why did you join the army,
Lieutenant?”
“Is
that relevant, sir?” Finally, the silent spoke. Not an acceptable answer, but
Sephiroth could work with that. He stepped even closer, his attention on the
mass of hair. Hmm, is that . . .?
“I’ll
decide on that, Lieutenant. Just answer the question.” Sephiroth said,
reaching toward the back of Vincent’s neck. He heard the brunet unsuccessfully
suppressing a gasp, and saw slight movement of the tattooed back muscles.
Sephiroth let his hand linger, but didn’t touch until Vincent gave a reply.
“It’s
in the records,” the young man said.
Alright,
now you’ve done it. Good job, Lieutenant, you just proved yourself to be a
real hardass. Sephiroth let his hand drop then, parted enough of the hair to see
what he needed, and then practically walked into Vincent, ignoring the young
man’s subtle arch of his back and the squaring of his shoulders. He grabbed a
silky curl in his fingers and put his mouth next to Vincent’s ear.
“I
don’t think this is regulation, soldier,” Sephiroth whispered, yanking on
the strand for emphasis. “At least not for your class. It better be gone the
next time I see you. You know where I’ll be.”
With
that, he abruptly backed away, feeling the loss of heat as the brief contact
ended succinctly. Sephiroth walked around the brunet, not sparing another glance
as he exited the tent. He did need to go to the comm towers to check on the
position of his troops.
When
he got under the waning sunlight, the general sighed. He almost regretted
drilling the young man. Almost. It was unfortunate that this Vincent wasn’t
just a spineless mongrel with a pretty face. It could have gone so much better,
had the stubborn fool decided to play smart and cooperate with him. Sephiroth
was willing to give him a chance to walk away.
Oh
but you left me with no choice now, Lieutenant Valentine. Sephiroth clenched his
fists. You’re begging for me to break you.
Vincent
let out the breath he had been holding for the past however many minutes and
nearly collapsed onto the floor. He fell backwards on the bed, legs finally
refused to support anymore of his weight. Having the most fearsome general
literally breathing down his neck took a hell of a lot out of him. Vincent
wouldn’t have been a bit surprised if Sephiroth chose to pull his sword out
and slice through his throat right then and there. One quick move, the blood
wouldn’t even have time to splatter, and all that’s left of Vincent
Valentine would be a stiff corpse with a cut artery.
Now
the million-dollar question was: why?
He
had a hunch. Hell, more than just a hunch, because the only thing he had ever
done since he met the general was fucking someone senseless. Someone named Cloud
Strife, whom the general just happened to take some kind of interest in. Vincent
wasn’t stupid. He had three guesses on what kind of interest, but his mind was
screaming the word “platonic” through his skull. He swung an arm over his
eyes, blotting out the fading filtered sunlight from his frayed vision.
He
shoved the predicament into the future. At present, Vincent only wanted to worry
about the relatively minor nuisance of losing his hair. It seemed trivial, but
he knew the general saw it, and the records would no doubt show it if
Sephiroth bothered to take up his word. It wouldn’t be trivial then, and
Vincent only hoped this is the worst that could come out of it.
He
didn’t believe for a second it’d work that way.
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