No Resistance

BY : MintFlavoured
Category: Final Fantasy VII > Yaoi - Male/Male > Sephiroth/Vincent
Dragon prints: 2597
Disclaimer: I do not own Final Fantasy VII or any characters, locations, concepts etc from this universe. I make no money from this.

No Resistance. AN: This contains some of my sick pleasures, so you might or might not be weirded out. Also, I believe that no one could actually rape Vincent. He's just too powerful, what wth Chaos and all - but I think Sephiroth could be the one person who could better him... thus, this fic.

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   He never heard anything out of place. Nothing, not even with his superior hearing, heightened not only by Hojo’s torturous experiments, but by the creatures sharing his body. This made him possibly the hardest man to target on Gaia. He was powerful. But there was always someone more so.

   He jerked up in bed, fully intending to reach across for Cerberus on the nightstand out of instinct. It wasn’t there, but Vincent had only a split second to register this as his intruder leapt upon him, dodging a reflex swing of his claw. Vincent grunted as his body was slammed back down into the mattress; it would have been painful if not for the soft surface. He growled dangerously as they straddled his waist, struggling furiously against his opponent. He twisted his hips, trying to throw his attacker’s weight off so he could gain some opening – like he had been trained long ago – but his foe seemed to anticipate that. He pressed and positioned himself so effectively that Vincent’s struggling was restricted. He was pinned. A strong arm pressed painfully against his throat, limiting his upper movements, limiting his hard breaths. Both hands were restrained by the attacker’s. Long, silver hair cascaded down around him.

   Sephiroth.

   He smirked as he lowered his head closely. Their noses touched. Vincent jerked in a renewed fit of struggling. It was futile. Sephiroth had immobilized him too well. Cat-like eyes locked onto red.

   Something swam before Vincent’s eyes. No, behind Vincent’s eyes. It invaded his mind and clouded his head, and for a second he feared he would black out. The sensation was foreign and his mind attempted to reject the strange intrusion, causing a war of indescribable feeling inside him. His body’s defenses were inexperienced with this manner of assault, and like the weighted drop of falling from a cliff, it yielded against something not unlike the force of gravity.

   Sephiroth’s green eyes watched with unnerving deliberation. The focus behind them shone, pushing into Vincent, who, for all his demons, failed to utilize their powers in time. Caught by a hypnotic thread, he was unable to look away.

   His mind caved.

   Sephiroth’s essence was there to step in place, filling the cracks like oil seeping in. It overwhelmed Vincent, plunging him into a deep, thick fog within his head, obscuring his senses and consuming his very being. He couldn’t breathe – he was being smothered by an incorporeal assailant. A stinging, icy sensation spread like tendrils into his brain, down his spine and to his fingertips, harnessing his motor functions, scattering through every cell like a plague. His body relaxed against a will not his own, and the man atop him smirked in a cold, victorious manner.

   He said nothing. Sephiroth lifted his arm from Vincent’s throat and released his wrists, leaving his hands where they had been pressed into the pillow. The room was strangely quiet now. The struggle had ceased, the battle had been won, and now the air had settled. No one would have suspected anything had happened only moments ago. No one would guess that, despite the deceivingly peaceful atmosphere, there was a troubled mind reeling in the horrible realization that he was powerless. Completely and utterly powerless. He was there for the taking. And Sephiroth fully intended to take all he wanted.

   The ex-general studied his victim for a long second, marveling and admiring the beauty beneath him, enjoying the absolute vulnerability of such a powerful and dangerous man. Sephiroth was already hard. His face, still only a hair’s breadth away from Vincent’s, drew back slightly. A finger, almost as pale as the skin beneath him, rose to the ex-Turk’s bottom lip and trailed it delicately. His green eyes watched with roused satisfaction, finding deep, spellbinding enjoyment from the level of forbidden intimacy. The finger was replaced by a thumb that tugged on the lip, parting it softly from the top one. Sephiroth descended his own upon them slowly, taking extreme pleasure as his mouth sealed against Vincent’s, and how easily they gave way to him. They felt wonderful and soft, pliable and warm; the forbidden fruit. He trapped the man’s top lip between his and gave a soft suck, enjoying the touch, the suppleness. The taste was exquisite, the experience delightful. A simple pair of lips would not entice him unless they belonged to his man.

   Sephiroth recoiled gently to study the glazed expression on his victim. Vincent could not resist. He had no control of himself. A glimmering line of distress edged his brow and something shone in his heavy-lidded eyes that excited Sephiroth: Fear. A string of arousal pumped through his blood to his groin as he stared into their depths. They were beautiful. Sephiroth had never seen such a color anywhere else. It didn’t matter that they had been enhanced by Mako, it only enriched their original color. Vincent was unique, and Sephiroth wanted him for it.

   He trailed his own lips along the smooth skin of Vincent’s cheek to his jaw, closing his green eyes to better hone his sense of touch. Vincent’s skin was without flaws, it was a delight just to gaze upon it. He nuzzled with his nose, taking in the faint musky scent of the prone man. Lingering ever so faintly was the smell of whatever detergent his black shirt had been washed in, and it sent a warm feeling down to Sephiroth’s groin. He hummed in satisfaction.

   It took a second to recall what Vincent had been wearing, without looking down. As his training had taught him, he memorized distinct details without conscious thought; a crucial part of his training, and a skill that had served him well over the years in Soldier. A warrior had to be aware of his surroundings instantly, should he need to react instantly.

   When he had entered the room and they had locked gazes for but a split second. It was all Sephiroth needed. Vincent was wearing a black shirt with long sleeves and a straight collar that, had it connected at the neckline, would have compensated for his cape mantle. It was a shirt in fashion over thirty years ago, but it made Vincent all that more unique. The thin cord, wound stylishly through the holes of the collar, accented Vincent’s clavicle and sternum beautifully in Sephiroth’s eyes. Vincent probably had not thought twice about his night wear, but it announced his misplacement in time. It made him that much more appealing. It would also be easy to remove, Sephiroth noted.

   The bed sheet obscured the rest of Vincent. It had become tangled and messed during their struggle, in much the same state as the gunman’s hair. Sephiroth moved from his captive’s waist so he could shift the sheet down slowly, revealing the rest of Vincent’s body in a cruel display of exposure. He let his hands trail teasingly upward along one long shin to a well toned thigh. Sephiroth dipped his fingers around and caressed a firm mound of flesh, letting his fingertips trace the cleft of the gunman’s buttocks through his dark pants. His green eyes glanced up to watch Vincent’s face. It creased in either disgust or mortification. To show any change in expression suggested he had some control left, which was fascinating indeed. He was stronger than Sephiroth had estimated. This would be fun.

   The same hand fondling Vincent’s backside slipped back around to his flat navel and swirled over the hip bone. He took great pleasure in mapping and touching this body. It felt wonderful beneath his fingers, like finely sculpted marble, warm and soft. Sephiroth let his hands ride up along Vincent’s torso, pushing the black shirt towards his shoulders, exposing his belly and chest. He didn’t look down until he had removed the shirt completely, watching Vincent’s hair fall fluidly from the clothing before tossing it to the floor. His green eyes roamed hungrily over the newly exposed body, marveling at the deceivingly thin form. An arrangement of scars marred the ivory skin, but Sephiroth found them alluring, an enhancement and a testament to Vincent’s strength. He lowered his lips to trace a large, surgery wound along the gunman’s belly, drifting the soft skin of his mouth over the small, thin protruding scar.

   Vincent shifted minutely. He was trapped within his own body, and memories of a similar experience were playing on his mind. Flashes of Hojo’s looming face reeled behind his eyes, invoking bolts of fear and dread so powerful he felt his heartbeat increase and his breath lodged in his throat. He was at the mercy of another cruel, twisted man, an ordeal he had many a nightmare about. He was scared, something he had never experienced since his time in the laboratory. Something he had never wanted to experience ever again, and with his level of strength, he hadn’t even thought it a possibility.

   A finger hooked into the waistband of his pants and ripped them down. A prickly fear spread across his skin as he realized his body was completely uncovered. A bubbling frustration burned beneath his surface emotions; he had been endowed with inhuman power and yet he couldn’t access any of it. He felt angry, mad that this was happening to him once again.

   Hands roamed boldly and arrogantly over Vincent’s ivory skin, touching where they shouldn’t, lingering where they had no right. Sephiroth slid a palm along the smooth expanse of the gunman’s taut belly around to his hip, approving of the slender frame with a look of anticipated hunger. His fingers traced further until they groped and kneaded a soft buttock. At this, Vincent grunted, and his eyebrows knitted together in dismay. Sephiroth’s feline smirk widened. His digit pushed into the valley of Vincent’s cheeks and trailed down until it bumped over the small ring of sensitive muscle.

   “No…” The breath left Vincent’s chest with as much volume as he could muster, but even such a tiny action required all his remaining strength.

   Sephiroth’s eyes sparkled in intrigue, ever impressed by Vincent’s growing resistance, slight though it was. The ex-general lowered his lips to the shell of the man’s ear and whispered, “sshhh…’ He trailed his finger teasingly along that valley with the mocking tenderness of a lover caressing his partner. But he was no lover. He teased the pad of his finger over the nub of muscle, provoking tiny sensations that would torment his prey with unwelcome desires, listening to the hitched breath in response.  He traced his fingernail gently along the same pattern, eliciting an involuntary twitch of Vincent’s pelvis and a quiet grunt of unwanted pleasure. Sephiroth watched his features closely, with great satisfaction at every glimmering emotion swirling beneath the surface. This ex-Turk was a master of fronts, but now, as he lay immobile and defenseless and at the mercy of his captor, the false, monotonous lines of his facades gave way to the emerging traces of disgust at his body’s response, frightened by the tingles of arousal.

   For Vincent, this was a nightmare equivalent to the horrors he often relives during sleep. The fingers withdrew, allowing a brief, uneasy reprieve as he watched them slide into Sephiroth’s smirking mouth. He sucked on them, swirling his tongue around them lewdly, eyes locked with Vincent’s. He took great enjoyment with his act, coating his fingers in saliva before lowering them. Without warning Sephiroth plunged the first one into his entrance straight to the knuckle. Vincent grunted in barely contained shock. The invading digit was cold against his hot insides, intrusive and unwanted as it settled there for a moment. Sephiroth’s eyes had fluttered closed in response to the first act of breaching his captive, savoring the momentous occasion like one would savor the first sip of a fine, rare wine.

   The finger pulled out leisurely before sinking right back in, pacing its assault relentlessly. Sephiroth’s left hand squeezed Vincent’s inner thigh, massaging the muscle in what Vincent could only assume was Sephiroth’s attempt to portray his vicious act as loving; kneading an imitation of sensual contact into his unwilling partner. Perhaps it was his own depravity that he was seeking to camouflage.

   The finger pushed in deeply and curled. Something jolted through Vincent like an electric shock of pleasures. His hips gave a small jump and a whimper fled from his lips, to his indignity. Sephiroth’s lips had twitched, pleased by the reaction, and so he repeated it. Vincent’s entire network of nerves lit up like fireworks, burning hot in his gut and shooting into his cock. The sensations were so gripping that he felt momentarily intoxicated.

   Sephiroth added a second finger, stretching the tight ring of muscle. Vincent elicited a protesting groan, barely more than a whisper. It was music to Sephiroth’s ears. A third finger joined quickly, stretching the gunman’s unwilling body to prepare it for something much larger. He took much gratification in the act, excitedly anticipating the prospect of claiming someone as beautiful, but yet powerful, as Vincent. He doubted anyone had ever been inside him. Except maybe his father, Hojo.

   Preparation wasn’t necessarily needed, Vincent’s constitution would adapt him quickly. Yet as he reluctantly removed his three fingers Sephiroth realized he had found more enjoyment in the act than first predicted. His cock twitched in impatience.

   Finally, he removed his own clothing, peeling back his restricting leather to expose his torso to the cooler air. His pants had become painfully tight around his swelling erection, and as he undid his fly and opened up his clothing, his cock sprang free, hard and throbbing, eager to sink into Vincent. Pre-come gathered at the tip as he shrugged off his long coat. He kept his unbuckled pants on, feeling dominance over his prisoner, who was exposed and open, a submissive appearance. It suited Sephiroth’s megalomania well.

   He grasped his cock and fisted it tightly, drawing out more pre-come until it collected in wells and ran down the head of his erection. He cast his green eyes down on his waiting victim and felt the heat of his groin increase, coiling and turning in perverse enjoyment. Lowering his huge cock, Sephiroth positioned himself at Vincent’s opening, taking extreme pleasure by the man’s futile tries at resistance. His curbed mental strength tugged weakly at Sephiroth’s hold, pushing against the wall in his mind. Again, his growing resistance surprised the ex-general.

   “No…” Vincent breathed. His head rolled slightly in the pillow, his fingers twitched, but he could do little else.

   Sephiroth gazed down at him as the possessive drive within him swelled significantly. His cock jutted against Vincent’s ring of muscle, pushing just enough to part the puckered entrance, allowing the very tip of the swollen head to enter. The captor gripped a long, slender leg as he used his other hand to fist himself, squeezing pre-come from his slit, depositing it into Vincent’s body. His dominance raked in the pleasure of tainting Vincent, of beginning the event that would ruin the beautiful man once more. He fisted more pre-come into the man’s small opening, shivering in pleasure as Vincent shuddered in disgust.

   Sephiroth pulled back his cock slightly, and his eyes twinkled in greedy delight as a globule of his juices seeped out after. It was too much, he could wait no longer. He used his own fluids to slick himself up as best he could before positioning himself over the helpless gunman. Sephiroth took a second to study the pale man’s face, absorbing the sight of Vincent’s stunning features as they froze in a lasting moment of trepidation. Rarely did an emotion blemish this face, but for once, the stark openness of fear imprinted glaringly into his eyes. To be able to accomplish this of Vincent was a cruel delight that Sephiroth had hungered for since he had first seen him; first yearned for him. He reached with one hand and allowed himself to caress the man’s smooth cheek, enjoying the gentle touch in such a crucial moment of his ownership. His knuckles stroked Vincent’s face tenderly as Sephiroth gazed down at him, feeling the utmost hatred flaring up beneath the vulnerable exterior. Hate and dread and despair.

   Enough. He had waited too long.

   Sephiroth flicked his hips and speared Vincent, penetrating him with a single, brutal thrust.

   Vincent cried out in sharp, stinging pain. His body jerked and his eyes clamped tightly shut, mouth gapping.

   Beautiful. So beautiful.

   Heat so incredible tensed around Sephiroth’s engorged cock, sending his mind reeling with the most heavenly sensations. He was a big man, and he knew his girth was causing as much pain to Vincent as it was pleasure to himself. But he cared not. No, he relished the pain emanating from the gunman’s twisted features, he thrived on it, for he knew no one else would ever experience such a thing with this man. He moaned in bliss as he pushed his hips firmly into Vincent’s, locking them together. His huge length was buried so deeply inside the gunman he was prodding the man’s organs. It was ecstasy.

   He savored the warmth for a long, agonizing second, humming his delight as the body below him uttered choked, erratic breaths. Vincent was seizing in shock, but Sephiroth enjoyed his distress, his loss of power, his utter submission, his total humiliation… He wanted it all and more.

   The first thrust was so very tight and restricting, but pleasurable and stimulating. He felt blood on his emerging inches, catching the flicker of cool air as his length pulled out. But Vincent’s body was already healing. It was so very amusing – ironic, really – that Hojo would force upon the gunman an indestructible body. And now it was the only body that could literally withstand Sephiroth’s enormous size. It was as though his father had unknowingly made Vincent for Sephiroth’s ultimate enjoyment. The Soldier general chuckled aloud as the thought passed through his mind.

   His thick cock pushed back in, swallowed by the tightly stretched hole. He burrowed his way balls-deep, nudging Vincent’s hips as they made contact, before repeating his thrusting again and again, gradually building up a pace, loosening the gunman until his erection slid in and out with ease. Sephiroth’s tempo quickened, and he was soon surging in and out with abandon, lost to his carnal needs, slapping skins together none-too-gently in his quest to establish his ownership.

   Grunts and groans were forced from Vincent’s parted lips as he was rocked thoroughly on the bed. The pressure of Sephiroth’s huge length filling him unbelievably full sent chills and aches along his spine.  He wanted it to stop, he couldn’t handle it – he had been subjected to tortures unimaginable before but this, this was mortifying, degrading and agonizing. He closed his eyes, but that just seemed to intensify the sensations, leaving him drowning in nothing but dark humiliation and suffering.

   “Nnh –”

   Sephiroth grinned as he pumped in and out rapidly. He angled himself, aiming for something he knew was there. He struck it sharply, and a completely different groan fled from Vincent’s lips. It sounded even better than his moans of pain. Sephiroth pounded it again, forcing the gunman’s body to jerk in abrupt pleasure.

   The pace changed. Sephiroth began his second attack. He found position directly above Vincent, settling his pelvis down on the bed between the gunman’s legs and nudging in and out in a semblance of tenderness, clenching his hips to deliver a deep, grating series of thrusts. He braced his elbows either side of Vincent’s beautifully enraptured face, chests and bellies touching. Sephiroth watched the man below him like a predator watching his prey. He was enthralled by the pale features, intrigued by the grip of emotions in the usually passive eyes. Vincent had had his pain, now he would have his pleasure, whether he wanted it or not.

   Sephiroth’s cock rocked in and out deeply, lovingly, foraging smoothly before retreating gently. The head grazed Vincent’s prostrate with each passing, forcing pleasures to shoot through his system against his will, bringing his limp shaft slowly to attention. His body wanted them, craved them, but somewhere in his mind he knew this was wrong. However, as each bolt of pleasure wracked his body and pooled in the pit of his belly, all rational thoughts began to dwindle away. He couldn’t think any more.

   Some automatic section of his brain acted on its own. His arms rose, finding unfettered strength in the deep recesses of his mind. His hands tried to push his violator away, without even his knowledge. His claw pricked harmlessly at Sephiroth’s skin.

   Sephiroth was mildly surprised. To be able to resist his powers even the slightest boasted a mighty will power. Vincent was astounding. He would never cease to amaze the ex-general. He was so wonderfully unique. Sephiroth wanted him even more.

   He grabbed the man’s wrists and pinned them behind Vincent’s head, smirking down in satisfied amusement, noses touched in passing. He could feel the weak pulls of the gauntlet attempting to break free, but the gunman did not have the strength to do it. The sensations spiking from his prostrate were ecstasy – his body had never experienced them before. Its effect was like a drug, an addiction Vincent was forced to endure, and would crave until his release. His body was battling with the diminishing resistance in his mind, pitting want over will, and it was winning.

   Vincent moaned as another wave of pleasure shot through his body. Sephiroth’s thrusts were gentle but powerful, pushing him against the rumpled bed sheets, tousling his hair in the pillow as he bobbed up and down. The length inside him – so foreign and violent at the beginning – was pushing sweet feelings of ecstasy into his veins. His mind was in a twisted land of heaven, where the pleasures ruled and the struggle was placated. But Gods, what pleasures.

   Vincent whimpered softly, a sound he had never in his life uttered – and would be absolutely disgusted with himself had he been in his right mind. Every gentle thrust wrung another sound from his lips. If anyone had walked in, they would be under the false illusion that there were two lovers on the bed, engaged in the sexual dance that lovers do. How wrong they would be.

   Hot, twisting streaks of sensation began accumulating in Vincent’s navel. A molten, tingling heat that signaled the build up of his release. But something else was churning beneath his skin… something unfamiliar and strange. His demons began tearing at his mind, roaring veraciously, unsettled by this growing feeling. It was coming from Sephiroth. Vincent’s mind jolted, shocked by a foreign vibe. Something was going to happen when the ex-general climaxed. Something his demons knew and he didn’t. Had he been properly coherent, he would have been able to dip into his sub-consciousness and retrieve the information. But he couldn’t. Somewhere, something told him the worst was yet to come.

   Sephiroth’s thrusts became faster. He braced himself firmly to deliver harder bucks and smirked as the flash of confusion passed over Vincent’s face. His cock slid in and out easily as his own release began to draw closer. Sephiroth lowered his bobbing face to Vincent’s as the pressure in his groin escalated rapidly. His balls tightened. It couldn’t be stopped now. He placed his lips near Vincent’s ear.

   “Mine.”

   He ejaculated.

   Vincent’s spine snapped back and a moan fled from his lips as somehow this brought on his own climax. He shuddered as Sephiroth buried himself full hilt, pumping his thick seed impossibly deep into him. He felt the man’s cock throb as it unloaded; foreign warmth spurted into his belly, tainting him. Defiling him.

   Vincent gasped harshly as something gripped his heart, restricting his lungs. His mind exploded with the overpowering sensations of both his climax and the desperate roars of his demons. He jerked – it was too much – he cried out. His mind went black and then white, it lurched and burned. He felt as though he was drowning.

   And then it was gone. He collapsed against the bed beneath Sephiroth, trembling and gasping. He felt cold. His body was in shock. The only warmth came from his own mess and that of Sephiroth’s body…

   Vincent’s demons were deathly quiet now. Eerie silence reigned in his mind. Now… now he knew what it was, what the impending sense of dread meant. With Sephiroth’s release came the knowledge of what he had done to Vincent… of what Vincent now was.

   Sephiroth’s. He belonged to Sephiroth.

   The shock refused to waver. The demons… the demons were monsters. Animals… That made him an animal. And Sephiroth had just mated him.

   His heart was still beating rapidly, thudding hard against his ribcage as a heavy, led weight settled over his heart. He could feel the connection that had been born from Sephiroth’s release. The bond. The ownership… The possession…

   Sephiroth shifted above him. The huge, now limp cock retreated from Vincent’s abused body, leaving a unbearably empty feeling. Not a trace of his semen was to be seen. Vincent’s body had taken it all. The ex-general tucked himself back into his leather pants and proceeded to dress himself leisurely. When finished, he threw a conceited, satisfied look at his new possession.

  “Goodbye, Vincent,” he said, his voice low and smooth, his deed done. “Until I summon you,” he bid. With that, he disappeared.

   Control returned slowly. Vincent rolled over and curled in his body, gripping the disturbed bed sheets. He grimaced in torment and gritted his teeth as his claw tore through to the mattress. He felt violently sick, dizzy with horror and shaken to his core. He’d been violated on the worst level. Revulsion flooded through him. How could he…? How could he have been so weak…? How could he have let that murderous monster take him so easily?

   Now no one was safe. He had endangered the world. If Sephiroth chose to, he could command Chaos, he could destroy the planet without raising a finger. And Vincent wouldn’t be able to do a damned thing to stop him. Vincent was dangerous, and Sephiroth had claimed him for it. He was a puppet now… Chained by Sephiroth, just like he had been chained by Hojo all those years ago.

   Vincent buried his head into the sheets and shook.

/



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