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It Was Not Without...	By : wickedorin Category: Final Fantasy VII > Yaoi - Male/Male Views: 821 -:- 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
- 1-It Was Not Without...
- 1
"It Was Not Without..." and the general style of
storytelling (I guess you could call it) of "It Was Not Without..." is
copyright Orin Drake. All of the characters contained within are
copyright to Square-Enix (and possibly Satan).

        Background:
I completely blame Miss Kalloway for inspiring this. She's just too
damn talented for her own good, and you should all seek her (and the Lemonade
Cafe *cough*) out and read her stuff and become enamored, too.
So there! Ha! Take that! It was one of those surprise
drive-by pairings that just got under my skin (in a good way) when it was
written well and... yeah.

        Warnings
and crap: Harsh language, as always. But, more importantly:
I remember what it was like to be 15. Some of us are late bloomers,
some of us extremely early... so I wrote under the assumption that Denzel
is "just right" to understand his sexual fantasies, okay? Age itself
is just a number and doesn't mean anything, so get over it. While
there is no true violence, there is extremely mild "blood-letting" (no,
I wouldn't even call it that, but the warnings have to be here... pft)
and suggestions that pain and a little consensual "soft violence" during
play might actually be a good thing. Ooohh, look out!
I could be subverting you! (I'm a bitch, but I'm a happy,
unrepressed bitch.)

It Was Not Without...

by Orin Drake
        "Cloud!"

        The
blonde started out of his calm daydream with that shout. It was loud,
it was angry, it was unexpected--

        It
was Tifa. How puzzling. A glance at the clock told him
it was late; quite a bit after 7th Heaven had closed for the night.
He'd been downstairs as the door was locked to make sure there were no
leftover drunks; that had to have been hours ago... He darted off
of the bed to dash downstairs--nearly running headlong into an extremely,
frighteningly,
upset old friend. "Wh--"

        "Denzel."
She hissed.

        Cloud
blinked, unwilling to say a word. Okay... and..?

        "Got
into the liquor, Cloud." She finished, hands on her hips.

        He'd
never seen her in any state remotely similar to the one she was in--teeth
gritted, hands balled but trembling... It was dangerous. He
fought the urge to take a step back as her words actually sank in.
"That's... not like him." Was the only thing that spilled forth.
Denzel was such a good kid...

        Tifa
sighed harshly, turning away from him. "I know... I know, but..."
Were it possible for her knuckles to constrict into still-tighter fists,
they most certainly did so at that point. "I just... I can't... be
here, right now." Tifa straightened and somehow had the mind about
her to walk out.

        The
entire incident left Cloud blinking, staring motionlessly after her.
He heard her say something at the bottom of the stairs, a response coming
after--then slam the front door closed.

        She'd
taken Marlene with her... which meant...

        He
was alone. With Denzel. With a possibly drunk Denzel.
And he was expected to... do... what?

        He
shook his head, trying to find any action that seemed appropriate.
It wasn't in the boy's character to do anything even remotely wrong.
He'd raised and trained Denzel for years... it just wasn't like him.

        Well.
He took a deep breath, deciding to wing it as best he could.

        Denzel
was standing in the middle of his room, head down, feeling... horribly
shameful. He'd insisted that he was tired and ready to sleep early,
going up to his room--with a small bottle taken from behind the counter
under his shirt. Tifa and Marlene, of course, had never noticed;
they were busy with the cleaning and counting the money.

        Tifa
never would have known had he not accidentally dropped the bottle with
nervous fingers as she passed by for some box or another. The glass
didn't shatter, thank the Planet, but the dull thud was enough to worry
her--and then some, when she'd opened the door. She'd been so angry
that her voice didn't even work. She went right back down the stairs
and waited there; waited to calm down enough to yell. He'd never
seen anything like, and had great hope that he never would again.

        He'd
needed
that bottle, though. For months--no, years--he'd been thinking...
obsessing... over Cloud. Not as merely a teacher, a trainer, some
kind of odd parental figure that was not at all parental... but something...
other. Something he wasn't even sure that he understood, really...
but it was a deep, carnal sort of instinct rather than a passing boyhood
confusion--that, he did know for certain. He wanted
Cloud to notice him... he wanted to make himself noticeable. Noticeable
enough so that there was nothing beyond he and his hero for just... just
one moment... just long enough...

        And
he'd tried, dammit--in small ways, subtle ways, but he'd tried.
He was afraid to try, but he'd been steadily losing that fear.

        That...
was where the alcohol came in. He didn't know... why, really.
He knew he wasn't supposed to, knew that eventually he would be caught...
but he'd hoped it wouldn't have been Tifa to catch him.

        She
was really mad. He felt badly about that; he certainly wasn't
drunk enough to miss her angry glare, and a deaf man could have heard her
yelling up to Cloud.

        He
wasn't drunk... just warm. Pleasantly warm, and sort of...
floating. He'd stopped then, honestly. Only enough to have
been caught... to feel good despite the horrible taste, to give him...

        And
that was what he was quickly discovering, the exact reason that made people
consume alcohol in the first place: courage. That vile burn granted
the stuff in liquid form, made it as real and tangible as you wanted it
to be. No, it did not create anything that wasn't already
there--it enhanced what lived beneath the surface.

        And
that was when he heard his door creak open. Denzel turned to find
the blonde standing in the doorway, giving him a long look... and the boy's
tongue ran completely away with his mind. "Punish me, Cloud."

        The
warrior quite literally had to bite his own tongue to keep a pleased shudder
at bay. Those utterly unexpected words from the boy wearing nothing
more than his pajama pants... It wasn't as if he hadn't known Denzel's
intentions. They weren't things that would be obvious to anyone who
hadn't... known them from the inside, before. Casual closeness getting
more and more casual... an extra brush of fingers as he handed over a sword...
and the way the boy would pause in front of his door that was always cracked
open at night to let the air flow through.

        It
wasn't the fact that Denzel paused in front of his door that alerted him.
It was the sharp breaths, the sound of clothes sliding against skin and
to the floor... and that delicious little gasp when he was trying so hard
to be quiet...

        That
in itself was never a problem. The complications came with Cloud's
too-calm acceptance of the matter... and his curiosity. Denzel was
fifteen... and he himself certainly remembered his desires at fifteen.
He shook his head, trying to banish the thoughts. They weren't...
proper. The reality of the situation was, the boy had done something
he was absolutely not likely to have ever done. He knew it
was wrong, a fact clearly presented, and yet... "Did you do this
to get in trouble?"

        The
youth was still able to gauge his own response carefully; neither a yes
or a no would have been the whole truth. "Maybe." He whispered,
feeling that warm courage starting to falter a little. Much more,
and he'd lose it altogether--and he could not lose that moment,
that advantage. So, he did the only thing he could think to do, the
thing Cloud had taught him--use every advantage to its full capacity.
"I wanted you to fuck me."

        The
words spilling from that once-innocent, delicate mouth... They were
shocking; but not because of any surprise in their content. It was
how bluntly they'd been uttered. Of all the things to say, all the
ways to respond... "I'm almost twice your age." The warrior
insisted calmly.

        "Almost.
But not quite." For all of his youth, all of his inexperience, his
entire manner took on a very natural, adult, matter-of-fact tone--one that
reminded Cloud perhaps a little too much of a young Rufus Shinra.
"Like you said, I'm 15. But you're really not that much older than
I am. Not even if you
were twice my age."

        Damn
the boy's teenaged logic, striking him exactly when and where he did not
need further weakness. "Not the point."

        "So
what is the point?" the boy took a step, feeling the room shudder
and shift around him--but he did not fall, did not stumble. His will
was far too strong to look weak now.

        "You
know better than to be drinking. That is the point, Denzel."
His voice was harsh, matter-of-fact... but softer than he'd have liked
it.

        Denzel
dropped his head, shame suddenly burning through him. He never wanted
to disappoint Cloud. "I... I thought..."

        Couldn't
let him finish. The blonde knew that he could not let him
finish that phrase or else it meant the death of his already floundering
self-control. And yet, as his mouth opened to reprimand the boy,
to inflict some parental punishment of words... he could not speak.
It could have been that quickly passing look of shame and sadness in the
boy's face... or it could have been his own curiosity that he was quickly
losing his better judgment to. If lead to consider it further, he'd
have probably reached the conclusion that it was an equal mixture of both.

        Denzel
looked up again, meeting his hero's eyes. "I've always... wanted
you to touch me..." he whispered, trying desperately to maintain the momentum
in his disappearing liquor-courage.

        The
wrong thing to say at just the wrong time--depending upon which side was
taken. To Cloud it was a limit break--a last great attempt at winning
when all of the odds were piling up against you, all of your life and your
soul and your willpower focused on one mad attempt to win... and it was
working.

        Something
snapped. Perhaps that's what it was. Something of instinct
and memory and desire took over--and Cloud no longer felt shame about it
at all. So they were sharing fantasies, were they? Well, alright
then. With no more warning than a sudden glint in his already glowing
eyes, he made impressively quick work of grasping both of the youth's wrists
and securing them firmly behind Denzel's back in one hand. Immobile,
surprised and feeling generally helpless, the boy was easy to hold straight-stiff
and upright.

        Two
pairs of blue eyes met and locked; one were wide and frightened like a
trapped animal, the others held a distinctly predatory property.
The predator was distantly recalling something similar having happened
to him, long ago... and the prey was assuring himself that what would happen
next was not something he could ever forget.

        Cloud
watched the youth's tongue quickly peek out from between his flushed lips,
lap swiftly at the flesh there and then retreat--a move of uncertainty...
and anticipation. It took him a moment to realize that there was
no true fear there... "You should be more concerned, Denzel."
His voice was low, growling... threatening. "You're playing a very
dangerous game, here." Certainly if he could scare the boy off, frighten
him way too much to try this again, then everything would stop...

        "I'm
not afraid of you, Cloud." The teenager answered, his voice surprisingly
calm regardless of his eyes remaining the size of small saucers.
"I know you won't hurt me."

        No.
No, he couldn't do this. "Dammit, Denzel." The blonde released
and pushed the boy away from him, turning to leave. Clearly he was
dealing with someone who was either outright stupid or purely, self-destructively,
suicidal, who didn't understand what he wanted nor what he was asking--

        But
as the youth stopped the older warrior cold by rushing ahead and falling
to his knees in front of the retreating form, Cloud was forced to acknowledge
his greater mistake: the boy knew exactly what he wanted... and
knew what he asked. There was no more sign of alcohol in that motion,
in those eyes that caught him like no grip of hand ever could.

        "Don't."

        "Cloud..."

        It
was too late for him already. There was a beautiful, half-naked boy
kneeling in front of him, already pulling his zipper down... but, more...
It was more than lust tinting those shining eyes in the dark. Something
far more frightening, there--something beyond hero worship. He realized...
that must have been what Sephiroth had seen in his eyes, the first time...

        "I
want this." Denzel insisted, all drunkenness bled out of him.
"And so do you."

        Still
surprised as he was, the youth's mouth mere inches from where he sincerely
would like to have it... he was in no mood to argue. Still, his instincts
cried out to him--this was Denzel. A boy he was trying to
raise, to make a better life for. Before him was the same boy he'd
held when the Geostigma got too intensely painful. How his voice
managed to come through the haze of possibilities... "You're too
young for--"

        "I'm
fifteen." He asserted again, roughly.

        Fifteen...
gods... Who was Cloud to tell Denzel he was too young when he himself
had... --No. He had to be the strong one about this.
The adult. He had to protect the boy. "You're too young
for this. And you're too young for drinking."

        "Never
again." The youth promised.

        Try
as he might, Cloud could not find a lie in those eyes--only feral, sincere
lust. "And... this?"

        "I
want this." He reiterated, meeting the Mako blue gaze with everything
he had in him. His voice was strong, steady. "I've wanted this
for a long time. And I'll still want it when this is over."

        The
words felt so real, so powerful, that the blonde had to close his eyes
for a moment. He could feel to hot breath through the leather...

        Too
young, maybe... but the situation was admittedly different. At least,
he hoped so. He saw no reason that he might break Denzel's heart
over and over again, forcing the boy to kill him several times because
his mind had shattered.

        But...
this...
He couldn't do this... The boy would regret, the boy would
know better...

        "Don't
you like me, Cloud?"

        Only
the sincere pain in his voice had made the blonde open his eyes to look
down. No, he didn't want the boy to think it was him...
"Denzel... of course I
like you, but--"

        Logic
seemed a far-off thing, suddenly. "Don't you want to fuck me?"

        The
warrior's eyes went wide with that question. He pushed the boy away
from him, falling to his own knees when Denzel sprawled backwards, surprised.
There was shock in the boy's gaze, the wet beginning of tears--but the
blonde had no intention of letting them form.

        "No."
Cloud whispered, hovering over the young brunette, catching his shoulders
when it appeared that he may try to run away in shame and disappointment.
"I don't want to fuck you, Denzel."

        The
boy's mouth opened to yell, to express how much it hurt to hear such wounding
words--when another pair of lips pressed against his. His eyes were
wide with sightless shock, the true feel of the kiss lost to him.

        But
that was merely the first kiss. Cloud remembered; he let the boy
breathe for a moment, running his lips over the soft jawline, along the
side of his neck and back to lips again.

        That
time, there was a response. Trembling, unsure, frightened... but
it was not to last. Youthful indulgences; Denzel's eyes closed to
block out his vision, to concentrate only on the feel of the kiss, the
taste, the smell... the perfection of it. His desire, his forever
unobtainable goal... returned tenfold.

        The
warrior pulled away at last, his eyes half-closed with an appreciating
look of contentment. And yet, there was still that which was never
asked of him... but what he would never go without asking. "Denzel?"

        "C-Cloud..."
the boy barely managed, still shivering from the shock and pleasure of
the new sensations.

        "Do
you want this, Denzel?" his voice low, soft, hopeful but careful...

        No
hesitation. No misunderstanding. "Yes."

        Right
or wrong, that was all the assurance Cloud had needed. He pulled
back and took hold of the youth's loose-fitting pajama bottoms, pulling
them off swiftly to leave him naked on the floor. He then stood himself,
staring down at the beautiful expanse of skin and muscle, unscarred flesh
and youthful semetry. His own clothes were shed like a serpent's
skin, quickly and without much thought given to where any of it landed.

        Time
blurred for the youth--all was sense and sensation; Cloud's beautiful and
handsome form just above him, fading scars and perfect muscle became glowing
Mako blue eyes against strands of gold, became--

        The
soft, smooth warmth of the warrior's tongue on his hardening flesh was
far, far too much--Denzel's voice caught in mid-cry, his chest feeling
as though it may seize forever. Just as he had managed to get his
breath, as he was starting to think that perhaps he could control himself--he
proved to be fifteen.

        Cloud
chuckled softly with the disappointed grunt in Denzel's panting moan, even
through the pleasure. He swallowed eagerly, pulling away to assume
that was about that. He stayed in a crouch over the boy's body, however...
watching. Waiting. It was nice to finally admire him up close
without the need to glance away, to pretend that he didn't notice.

        Despite
the severely unexpected exhaustion and the gloriously pleasant after-effects
of the first orgasm that hadn't been brought by his own hand, the youth's
suddenly wide blue eyes caught the Mako ones before the elder was able
to pull away entirely. "But... what about..."

        "Ssshh.
You were right." Cloud assured softly. He wasn't planning on
having his own release with the boy just yet... let alone what he seemed
to have been implying with those pleading eyes. "I won't hurt you,
Denzel. This is just too soon for you."

        "Then
why are you still here in the first place?" he asked with an understated
amusement--a distinct understanding.

        ...Damn.
But he remembered it, himself... the apprehension, the exhilaration--but
the pain...

        "Maybe
I want you to hurt me a little." He admitted softly.

        That
statement went straight to Cloud's already undeniable erection. The
boy was so similar to himself, back then... "The first time always
hurts."

        "Please,
Cloud..." And then, a funny idea... "It could be my punishment."

        The
blonde smirked down at the youth below. "Some punishment."

        "Well,
it will hurt for a few days after, won't it?" That time there
was no glint in his eyes at the idea of pain...

        "I
won't do that to you." He promised, waiting until the boy was paying
full attention to his words. "I... that's not the way it should be."

        "Show
me." The youth pleaded. "Cloud, please... so bad... I... I
want this so badly..."

        He
tried
to ignore the boy's moaned words. The way Denzel's hands reached
up for his shoulders, his surprisingly strong arms pulling the warrior
back down and over him. He let himself be pulled, let the heat rush
over his skin again. It'd been so long... and it wasn't as if doing
just such a thing with the youth had never crossed his mind, to put it
lightly. He let the shaking, uncertain lips explore his own, savoring
the simple desire that drove them. "You have to be sure about this..."
he whispered against the boy's mouth.

        "I
am." He responded, just as softly. "Cloud, I'm sure... please..."

        With
one last kiss, the blonde pulled back and gave a mild sigh. Temptation
was just too easy, sometimes... but he was not one to complain. He
gestured to the boy to stay where he was, getting up and walking across
the room to find something--ah, lotion. Did Denzel use that to pleasure
himself to the warrior's image, he wondered... grinning at himself for
being so egotistical. He could ask, he supposed... but that should
wait until later.

        Kneeling
back over the curious, wide-eyed youth, he carefully positioned the boy's
limbs. Cloud believed himself correct in assuming that it would be
Denzel's first time, and that meant he would have to make it as easy as
possible.

        Legs
spread just slightly, knees bent, completely open to anything that may
be planned for him... Denzel closed his eyes and tried to breathe normally.
He was barely allowed a moment to prepare himself for what was to come;
the cool, gentle touch of something against his opening caused him to gasp
in surprise. Yes, he had some idea of the mechanics, but... never
had he known what it might feel like.

        "Ssssh..."
Cloud tried to get the youth to relax a little by placing a gentle hand
on his thigh. He forced himself to be patient, pressing ever so slightly
before making tiny circles. "Slow, deep breaths."

        Denzel
tried to nod, doing what he could to obey. The light circling had
begun to turn back to pressing, making him feel his own quivering at the
unknown sensations. It was not altogether unpleasant--it was the
fear of not knowing how he
should react, not certain as to what
was going to happen next...

        The
youth cried out when the finger began to pick up force, finally entering
him in a long, slow thrust. If it was a little pain the boy wanted,
Cloud would certainly do his best to deliver. It was nothing severe,
nothing that would harm him; just enough to snap him out of his worry,
making him focus on exactly what the warrior was doing to him. Allowing
a moment for Denzel to catch his breath, Cloud then began a slow in-and-out
stroke.

        There
was nothing to clutch, nothing to cling to--except those powerful shoulders
above him. The boy's fingernails dug into the flesh without meaning
to, something deep inside of him being brushed for the first time.

        Cloud
winced slightly with the short-lived clawing pain in his shoulders, his
finger pressing hard against the boy's prostate. He suddenly stopped
minding altogether when a long, passionate moan was torn from the young
throat, warming his entire body. He smirked down at the writhing
form beneath him, slowly pressing another finger inside to stretch carefully
with the first. "Tifa is going to kill us both. She'll probably
strike at me first, so you can get a head start."

        I
could die here... Denzel wished he were able to say. Just
like this... right now...

       The
sparkle in the warrior's eyes grew more mischievous as the boy was lost
in his pleasure, going from stiffening to thrashing, gasping and moaning;
a third finger make the surprisingly strong hands dig yet deeper into Cloud's
already torn shoulders. He found little reason to complain, however.
The time to find out whether or not Denzel really knew what he was getting
into had come.

        The
sudden emptiness inside made the boy mumble with annoyance--right before
he realized he was being picked up off the floor and expected to stand
under his own weight. He stumbled a little, glad that Cloud had anticipated
such a thing and caught him. Instead of being merely lead to the
bed, Denzel was spun around quickly, the blonde's hands strong on his forearms
and pushing him roughly onward.

        The
boy turned his head with trepidation and looked up, startled by being roughly
thrown against the mattress. "Cloud..?"

        In
return, he received a dark but friendly smirk. "You should
be a little afraid, Denzel."

        When
the brunette's only response was another one of those deliciously paralyzing
moans, Cloud knew it was exactly what the youth needed from him.
Certain that his preparations had been thorough, he pulled back, spread
the remainder of the lotion on himself and pressed just inside the lithe
body with forced restraint. He would be as delicate as he could while
making Denzel's experience... memorable.

        There
was one cold, solid instant of panic in the body beneath, causing the boy
to gasp in pain when all had gone tense. It was a blind moment of
raw and thoughtless primal reaction--disintegrated by the all too soft
press of lips against the back of his neck, a soft hand ghosting against
his shoulder. Kindness amongst the chaos drew his mind to working
again.

        The
youth's body tensed a second time--with the pain/pleasure, the alien sensations,
the loss of control and real or imagined danger. It hurt,
but the simple knowledge of who was pressed against him--inside
him--holding him down, making it hurt... He was panting even
before he was fully impaled, body completely over-sensitized.

        Cloud
was extremely glad that the smirk across his lips had no witnesses.
Things were... going well. He forced himself to pause, letting the
unpracticed boy adjust to him.

        But
Denzel surprised them both; with a barely controlled cry of bitter-sweet
agony, he thrust backwards and seated himself completely. Cloud hissed
between his teeth, unconsciously dragging his fingernails harshly across
the youth's hips. The soft heat around him was quite enough, but
the intense tightness he'd suddenly been drawn into... he moaned
mindlessly at the feel of the boy's hips knocking against his own, the
scent of blood from the shallow streams clawed by them both--the admission
that they both wanted this. Needed it. Food, clothing,
shelter, and this.

        Cloud
somehow found the presence of mind to wait before pulling away to
commence the fucking of the boy straight through the mattress; he instead
allowed his fingers to trail up Denzel's sides (the smears of blood both
brutal and romantic), lightly feeling and caressing every trembling muscle
until they came to the youth's chest. Young, yes, but sculpted nicely
in the way that only a young man's body could be. Training had done
them both good, after all.

        The
barest whisper, the most constrained plea ever uttered, was voiced without
breath. "Cloud..."

        The
blonde's long-held, hard-fought control shattered. He leaned down
and bit sharply at the junction between the boy's neck and shoulder, pulling
back as slowly as he could afford himself before the first purposeful thrust.

        They'd
both been broken. Cloud, more often--but that similarity, that understanding,
was suddenly both the most significant idea... and utterly insignificant.
There, tangled in the pain and blood, was pleasure. Kindness, too,
in some unexplainable form. Sensations so powerful that they nearly
kissed the lips of Death with their intensity were shared between them
like scar stories.

        But,
really... for that moment... there were only the two of them. Indulging
in the flesh, the sin, the need... No thought needed of tomorrow.
Just the strained cries, the desperate grasping of the sheets by white-knuckled
hands, the pleading and the promising of every breath.

        It
was not without violence.

        It
was not without love.

        There
were sounds made and sensations suffered that neither imagined before;
and then there was that pinprick of an instant where pure light and eternity
and something of pleasure beyond mere pleasure met...

        Cloud
managed a breathless grunt before collapsing. Denzel had just finished
before him, but the cry rang out; a surprisingly quiet chorus of sounds.

        Warmth...
breathing... pain and pleasure and comfort... but cramping. A little
cold moisture, after a while.

        Since
Cloud seemed to be the one atop the situation, he finally decided that
he may wish to let the youth recover a bit. Very delicately he withdrew,
having regained all of his control at last. "Do you need materia?"

        "No."
The boy whispered, his voice harsh from the noises made. He was scared,
suddenly. Terrified in all senses that now, after he'd gotten he
blonde to finally grant him what he'd needed... he'd just be abandoned.
Cloud would be disgusted and leave... he'd be left alone, feeling as empty
emotionally as he did physically.

        There
was a silent, motionless moment. Not even breath or heartbeats seemed
to survive the vacuum around them--

        And
then Cloud carefully pulled the sheets back, maneuvering Denzel beneath
them... slipping in beside the confused youth. He understood... far
too much of what was going through the boy's head. Carefully, slowly,
he slid one arm underneath Denzel's shoulders, pulling the slightly smaller
body toward him. You won't be alone. He wanted to say.
You
don't have the world outside to fear. You never have to feel you
need to prove yourself. Never to take abuse. Never to feel
you deserve it. You're no one's puppet, and you will always be strong
enough.

        Maybe
the thoughts came through his breath... his heartbeat, the heat of his
chest against the boy's back... Whatever it may have been, Denzel's
body completely relaxed in his arms. He went so far as to scoot himself
back just a bit more, to be as close to the other body as possible.

        Together,
wonder of wonders, they drifted off into a half-conscious sleep.
Their shared warmth, breathing, pulses, life... it was a calm moment
of perfection.

        A sound.
An interrupting kind of sound. One that should have startled them
both awake, had they not been so absolutely relaxed.

        It
was Denzel's sudden realization that made him react at last. "Tifa!"

        Clouds
arms did not let him retreat; he pulled the boy back toward him, an unconcerned
whisper on his lips. "She'll understand. Until morning.
Then she'll kill us."

        As
disconcerting as the words should have been... the dull humor in
Cloud's voice drew him back into relative ease. They were to pretend
to be asleep. That seemed a wonderful plan. Curling back into
comforting arms, Denzel sighed deeply and closed his eyes.

        The
upstairs was simply too quiet. Tifa had been terribly angry, yes,
but... she hadn't expected her outburst to cause such a stillness.
Perhaps she should check up on Denzel...

        She
stood there at his doorway for a moment, gaping ever so slightly at the
sight in front of her. Cloud in Denzel's bed... clothes on the floor...

        She
forced a quiet breath, fearing if she did not do so that she may collapse
from the lack of oxygen. So it had finally come to this. She
was neither blind nor stupid; but she did know when to keep her mouth shut.

        There
was less to explain than they thought.

        Quietly,
she backed out of the room, closing the door behind her. There were...
things to discuss, come morning. To be certain of.

        As
he heard the door shut, Cloud's arms tightened momentarily. A hug,
Denzel realized. Something to tell him... everything was going to
be alright.

        I surprised the hell out
of myself by writing this. Never knew I was capable, so that was
a nice surprise. While I was working on the story, I called it "I'm
Going to Hell", which I thought was only appropriate when I had the "Cloud
and Denzel do it" plot outline completed. It became a little more,
obviously. I'm quite satisfied with it on... a number of levels.

        Another freaking mostly
happy ending, geez. I'm getting a little worried about that.
At least this one had blood in it.

        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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It Was Not Without...