No Freedom

BY : MintFlavoured
Category: Final Fantasy VII > Yaoi - Male/Male > Sephiroth/Vincent
Dragon prints: 2057
Disclaimer: I do not own Final Fantasy VII or any characters etc from this universe. I make no money from this.

No Freedom AN: Sequel to No Resistance. Been writing this for a long ass time- very enjoyable though.

//

   Vincent twisted violently, eyelids fluttering. His lithe body fell back into the mattress, pushing a whispery moan of erotic pleasure from his swollen, parted lips. Almost immediately he sucked in an erratic gasp as an engorged cock surged back into him. He writhed in the tangled sheets, sweating and panting hard, drugged by pleasure.

   “Aggh!”

   Sweet, sweet ecstasy exploded from his prostate, snapping his spine into a perfectly bowed arc, but he was allowed no time to recover. His dominator rocked into him relentlessly, powerful hips driving into his, sheathing inside his pleasure-weakened body again and again.

   “Nn!”

   Vincent threw his head back, mouth gaping. His lips were ensnared a moment later and a tongue thrust into him, ravaging him from both ends. His eyes rolled back as that huge, thick length struck him repeatedly, dipping into his deepest depths, striking his sweet spot and forcing bolt after bolt of pure, hard pleasure into his belly.

   Noises fled freely from his lips once they were released. Vincent found the strength to open his crimson eyes. The sight above him was both beautiful and frightening.

   “No…” he whispered. “ – Ah!”

   Leering down at him behind a flailing curtain of brilliant silver hair, Sephiroth pinned his gaze, piercing into his very soul. He thrust once more, shuddered and stilled, unloading his searing hot semen into Vincent, filling him up in one never-ending climax until he thought he couldn’t take any more –

   “No!”

   Vincent shot to his feet, hunched protectively as though he had been attacked, looking about wildly. A dark forest greeted him, tranquil and sheltered. His small, modest camp lay exactly where it had when he had fallen asleep. The only noises spoiling the forest were the faint whispering of the leaves, his own heavy breathing and the rapid, fierce pounding of his heart.

   Clutching his head, Vincent snarled in anguish, tormented by a faraway foe night after night. Forced to endure what he so wanted to forget, he found no solace even amongst the tranquility of nature.

   Lifting his head, calmed eyes adapting to the dead of night, he gazed at his destination silhouetted against the glow of the moon, framed by the shadows of the treetops. In the distance, dark clouds threatened the horizon.

//

   The noise of the rain was a dangerous hindrance. But it provided protection. The lightening threw everything into a stark contrast. If anything other than the trees and rocky mountainside moved, it would be lit up like a cat in a spotlight.

   Vincent surveyed his location, looking down from his high vantage point. His cape fluttered erratically in the wind, saturated from the downpour. The skies thundered directly above him, vibrating the rocks underfoot. The man cast a paranoid look at the landscape, turned, and disappeared into the black shadows of the cave behind him. The incessant whisper of a strange warning in his mind diminished only slightly upon the let-up of rain, and more importantly, upon the loss of exposure.

   He made a sweep of the cave, ridding it of a few sheltering pests that would bother him, before tucking into the deepest part of the grotto. Dare he light a fire? No, he did not need light nor heat, he didn’t want to feel anything, even the instinctive craving for warmth within the dank, black hollow. The layers and layers of rock around him would provide him with the only protection he sought, but how effective a dampener it was to the foe he fled from, he didn’t know.

   The clatter of the rain became merely a background noise in the far reaches of his consciousness as he battled with his own psyche. Flashes of his previous dreams bombarded him, fleeting sensations tricked forth and then left as quickly, forced back into their forbidden depths. Perhaps the darkness was not an aid in his desperate attempt to block away his nightly ordeals… but he was far from civilization, safe in the knowledge that he was the only person out in the wilderness. Away from looks, away from danger.

   A rumble not of the heavens caught his divided attention, from inside his very mind. The demons were warning him softly, cautioning him. Why? They were disturbed by his troubled mind. In ways he still didn’t understand they were connected to his feelings, his thoughts and his fears.  They reacted to his extremes, but while they felt like parasites taking residence inside him, they protected him in ways only they could.

   Galian roared – a sensation unlike the vibrations of the thunder cracking the very air. Vincent, startled by the hollow echo repeating on his mental ears, jumped and tensed, sensing anxiety, apprehension, anger, fear – excitement

   He sprung to his feet – an action not entirely his own – as something came crashing down on his mind. His demons screamed and snarled as something heavy settled into his brain. He was disorientated, but began staggering to the mouth of the cave, desperate to move, to run – to escape. Cold, prickling fear exploded inside his chest – and suddenly his world was upside down. He was on his back, stinging from the rough, hard rocky floor he had been slammed onto. A weight forced him down, restricting his arms. Vincent turned his wide, crimson eyes above to the figure that had haunted him since his nightmarish torment that fateful night…

   “Vincent…” Sephiroth drawled, a whisper that touched his mind like no violation he had experienced before, louder than the roaring of his demons, more powerful than the thousands of gallons of water falling outside. Louder, even, than the painful hammering of his heart.

   Spurring into action, Vincent gathered all of his unnatural strength and threw off his attacker, barely registering his severe disbelief when he succeeded and scrambled back, crouched low and defensively. He was panting, but true to his training remained otherwise calm. His eyes were wide and alert below a twisted brow.

   Sephiroth watched him, calm and smiling. He had let Vincent go, this the gunman now realized. But he was backed into the cave, trapped like an animal while his captor taunted him against his only exit.

   How had Sephiroth approached him so easily? How had Vincent let the man he feared sneak up and corner him? How?

   Sephiroth lunged, possessing speed Vincent could no longer evade. He was slammed once again against the rocky wall. Pain blossomed like fireworks from the impact, cutting his back, bruising his skin. He fought against his attacker despite his wounds, struggling with all his might in a fight he could never win. He was frantic to set himself free from his smirking enemy, but no amount of thrashing would help. Fear, apprehension – they struck his heart like a hammer blow.

   He was slammed harshly against the rock again, ceasing his attempts to escape. Power beyond comprehension emanated from the body flush against his own. Vincent stilled, unable to do more, and glowered at the pair of green eyes, teeth gritted in an expression of utmost hatred.

   “You haven’t missed me?” Sephiroth teased, his voice laced with mock hurt. He grinded his body into Vincent’s, delighting in the contours of his captive and the restrained shudder that wracked his unwilling form. Yes, Vincent’s body remembered the touches, the feelings and the pleasures that Sephiroth’s had given him., no matter how much he wanted to forget them.

   “Release me,” Vincent demanded, his voice bereft of strength and volume but, true to his control, steady and unwavering.

  The smirk that answered him was not a pleasant one. It sent chills down Vincent’s spine and a bolt of vulnerability shocked his body. He knew… he knew Sephiroth could do whatever he wanted with him. And he couldn’t do a damned thing to stop him.

   “Release you?” Sephiroth repeated, lowering his lips to the smooth line of Vincent’s jaw. The gunman jerked as lips as soft as feathers ghosted across his skin, pushing his bangs from their path. They parted to hover at his ear, where he whispered in a tone that drew reluctant tingles from Vincent’s skin, “Why would I do that…?”

   Before Vincent could do or say anything more, his lips were captured by Sephiroth’s, gaining a forceful connection by pinning the gunman’s head between his and the rocky wall behind. Vincent could not twist free. Hands restrained his wrists, strong legs pressed against his own. His struggling was muted by the larger, stronger body grinding against him, but still he tried.

   Finally, his lips were released, allowing him to gasp in a lungful of air, but it was almost as quickly propelled from his body in the form of a startled cry as a sturdy, solid knee pressed between his legs. Sephiroth took this opportunity to ensnare those parted lips, and thrust his tongue into the warmth of Vincent’s reluctant mouth. He forced his head back once more as he gained that deep, intimate contact he had planned to take from the gunman. His knee rolled into the man’s groin, earning him a wonderful, muffled groan. He swallowed it eagerly, dominating Vincent’s mouth, probing, coaxing his tongue to cooperate. It did not, but Sephiroth found it no less enjoying.

   With no warning, the ex-general threw his captive to the floor roughly, breaking their contact. Vincent landed on his stomach, momentarily disorientated, but before he could gather his senses, his arms were wrenched behind his back and a larger body pinned him firmly to the cold floor, trapping him once again in a position he could not fight.

   “Dreams can only satisfy so much,” Sephiroth purred in his ear, warm breath tickling the shell. He snaked one free hand around to Vincent’s leather top buckles, unlatching them with ease as he rotated his pelvis into the ex-Turk’s backside, aching to sink his length into that beautiful body once again, desiring nothing more than to rule the man.

   “Stop – ” Vincent gasped, unable to even wriggle. His cape was taken from him, he was disrobed of his protection. His heart clenched in fear. Sephiroth was going to violate him again… and he couldn’t do anything. “W-why?” He demanded, and then groaned unwillingly as a hard hand slid under his leather top and captured a nipple. “You took what you wanted,” Vincent snarled, recalling the bitter memory of his most humiliating, horrific ordeal of his newfound life. “Why are you doing this to me?”

   A huff of amusement escaped Sephiroth’s predatory smirk as he massaged Vincent’s pectoral muscle with cruel fingers, relishing the jerk of unwilling pleasure. His silken, silver hair cascaded over Vincent’s shoulder as he lowered his head again.

   “Surely it is obviously,” he replied, his voice a smooth, honey-thick tone that traveled along Vincent’s spine like oil. Sephiroth said no more as his hands moved from the warm skin of the gunman’s chest to the belts fastened around the man’s slim waist. He stripped them violently, tossing them to the cave floor. Vincent shuddered, desperate now to free himself. He couldn’t let this happen again, he couldn’t take it.

   All thoughts were thrown from his mind as a cool hand dug forcefully into his leather pants. Vincent grunted, gritting his teeth to restrain his vocals. Through the horrible pleasures being forced upon him, the gunman brought together enough coherent thoughts to tense his muscles, preparing. He braced his knees on the harsh, rocky floor, bruising the bone, and gathered his strength. With an almighty shove he arched his body into that of his captor’s and heaved, letting free a snarl of effort. The weight swayed from his back and he started to scramble away, clawing at the rock, grazing his fingers – but an icy grip of steel wrenched him back like he was a rag doll, tossing him to the wall of the cave. He landed heavily on his back, the wind knocked from his lungs, but still he fought.

  It did him no good. Sephiroth was already over him, catching his wrists and slamming them to the cold floor, straddling Vincent’s squirming waist. He barely registered the sharp stinging of pain at his back, or the bleeding wound on his elbow where it had connected with a protruding rock. But he felt the fear… the helplessness – the desperation that raked across his heart, searing inside his chest. He didn’t want to be taken again. He couldn’t bear it.

   Vincent barred his teeth and threw his up knees, hooking his legs around Sephiroth’s chest – using his strong muscles and weight to fling the bigger man down to his back. Vincent twisted and sprung into a crouch as Sephiroth back rolled onto his own feet, but as the gunman darted for the cave entrance – using all the supernatural speed he could muster – Sephiroth was there. Even with his sharp reflexes Vincent could not dodge. Sephiroth punched him square in the jaw, sending him reeling back into the cave, further from his escape. He stumbled onto his side, attempting to use his momentum to fling himself back up, but a powerful grip fisted his hair painfully and slammed his face into the unforgiving, hard wall.

   Pain exploded across his skull, knocking the sense from his battered brain as the hand in his hair jerked him and pressed his twisted body back against the wall. He was momentarily stunned, his face burning, stinging and aching in intensities he hadn’t felt in years. Vincent could feel blood seeping down his forehead, trickling down his cheek, dripping from his chin. A normal human would be concussed and unconscious.

   “I do love your futile struggling,” Sephiroth drawled, jerking the man’s head for effect as he forced his body into that of his half-sprawled captive’s. He smirked further as the man found his drowsy motor functions and lifted his hands, attempting to pry Sephiroth’s hand from his hair. It was useless. His futile struggling was like a drug, feeding the madman’s arousal. But now it had reached the point for acting on his objective. Enough playing. He was going to take what he wanted, what he had come for.

   He pushed Vincent’s head back into the rock, shaking his already uneasy grip on consciousness, and flung him to the floor, taking extreme pleasure in the sight of his possession sluggishly trying to find his senses. Sephiroth loomed over him before finally wrenching off the man’s leather suit, uncaring when it ripped underneath the mighty strength of the ex-general. Vincent’s boots came away with the force, exposing the man completely naked.

   Vincent grunted in pain as his body was jerked across the rough floor, tearing more wounds into his skin. He clawed weakly at the ground, trying to raise his body, to drain away the blurriness before his eyes. A second later he was forcefully flipped onto his back, his naked legs shoved apart and a frightening warm weight pressed down between them, over him. Smothering him. He fought back, more on instinct and fear than logical thought.

   “No,” he rasped, struggling beneath the bigger man, his feet scrabbling for purchase on the ground, his hand and gauntlet pushing, raking, and pounding the torso above him. However his weak retaliation ceased the moment they were restrained, when Sephiroth removed his grip Vincent’s arms refused to move. They remained where they had been laid, limp by the sides of his head. No longer his arms.

   Desperate beyond anything he had ever felt, Vincent sought his only chance of escape. He called out to the power of Chaos, the frighteningly powerful Weapon that he feared and yet now needed.

   Chaos refused to answer.

   “I don’t think Chaos needs to make an appearance tonight,” Sephiroth purred dangerously, his green, cat-like eyes boring down into Vincent’s wide, furious and fearful red ones.

   “No!” Vincent growled, the panic now evident in his voice. Sephiroth was controlling his demons, through the connection he had forced into him that terrible night. Vincent had nothing left to fight with, he was helpless. Completely at Sephiroth’s will. He was terrified. He had never felt this much fear since the experiments. His heart was pounding a hole through his ribcage, throbbing so hard it was hurting him. Sharp, cold stabs of apprehension shot down the back of his skull as he looked up at the man who had ruined what little future he had. “Stop this.”

   Sephiroth smirked, and with a rough, sudden thrust, ground his clothed groin into Vincent’s naked one, enjoying the intake of breath from his prisoner. “You are beautiful,” he said. “But you’re even more beautiful in throes of ecstasy.” He lowered his lips to the smooth column of skin on Vincent’s neck as he rolled his hips, “and I will have the pleasure of seeing you writhing in utter abandon below me.”

   “No,” Vincent whispered.

   The sharp, almost painful sound of a zipper pierced the cave air. “Yes,” Sephiroth replied, smirking as he pulled back to release his shaft. The enormous, swollen erection sprung free, bobbing twice in the cool air. Pre-cum pearled at the head. Sephiroth fisted his cock, inhaling as he stroked the sensitive organ, his green eyes roaming greedily over Vincent’s naked form. “Imagine what I could really do to you, Vincent… imagine what I could make you do.” He planted his hands either side of the helpless man’s head and bore down at him, ignoring the increased throbbing in his groin by the mere sight of fear in Vincent’s eyes. “I control you. You have free will when I want you to have it. I can force you to do things you’d rather die than do, but you can neither die nor refuse me…” He smiled in the cruelest of fashions. Raising two fingers to his mouth, he sucked on them while maintaining his lock on Vincent’s crimson eyes. A second later, slowly and deliberately, Sephiroth removed his fingers, now slicked with saliva, and lowered them to Vincent’s buttocks. The index finger pushed past the firm mound of flesh and straight into the puckered entrance, forcing into the small passage easily. Savoring the expression of fear and apprehension, Sephiroth added his second digit almost immediately, scissoring the tight ring of muscle. He circled and wriggled his fingers, attempting to coax a stronger expression across the gunman’s features. He succeeded only when the third finger entered, and he pressed that small nub of nerves deep inside.

   “No,” Vincent half moaned, half yelped. His brow creased above closed eyes. He could no longer look at Sephiroth. His heart felt heavy despite the erratic pounding against his ribcage, hurting him in both physical and emotional pain. A chuckle from Sephiroth brought forth a surge of fresh hatred, but when the fingers disappeared his feelings dropped to ice cold dread. He was given barely a second’s pause.

   Sephiroth ripped into him with a single, ruthless push, sliding in until his balls slapped against the gunman’s backside. Unable to control himself, Vincent cried out in pain and shock, his body jerking into a tensed arch, his belly swelling. The weight and fullness hit him unprepared, throwing his body into a mess of feelings. It remembered this, but it was not yet used to it.

   Sephiroth lowered his torso onto his captive’s, their bellies and chests flush together. He gazed down at Vincent, enjoying the reaction he received, reveling in the feeling, the warmth and the tightness of the other man around his length. He savored the moment, allowing Vincent to adjust and to reacquaint himself with his size. His cock throbbed powerfully inside Vincent, aching to move, but he controlled his urges and watched the face of his unwilling lover.

   Enough waiting.

   Vincent was, again, unable to suppress a stray cry as Sephiroth’s huge cock nudged his prostrate in passing. The length retreated from his sore body almost completely before plunging back in, striking that spot once again. Cruel delight curled into Vincent’s belly, wringing a moan from his throat. His body jerked again and again as each strong, powerful thrust rocked him, filling him completely. Sephiroth was dominating him, claiming Vincent’s body once again.  His arms refused to heed his call, remaining where they had been set, his demons were deathly silent, not even a rumble from them as they submitted to the ownership Sephiroth had claimed over them.

   “Naaghh!” He whispered, barely able to resist writhing against the sensations coiling in his navel.

   Sephiroth’s lips curled in satisfaction, pumping his hips steadily to produce pleasure for them both. He trailed one hand along Vincent’s side, feeling the smaller body below him moving with his actions, twisting with each spike of pleasure. His hand ran along a defined hipbone before sliding around and along a thigh, caressing the smooth skin. His wait had been worth his reward, claiming Vincent again was just as enjoyable as the first time.

   He said nothing as he ravished his hostage, allowing the distant roar of the rain to provide the cold, harsh ambience of their intercourse, and the sounds of their motions to echo around them. A clap of thunder vibrated the air, but it only elevated Sephiroth’s arousal. The power of the heavens was like an aphrodisiac.

   Vincent cried out as Sephiroth plunged into him roughly, savaging his prostate as the general suddenly increased the tempo. Pleasure swam before his eyes and shot through his belly, igniting every nerve in his body and sending him insane with sensations. He felt every contour of his dominator’s huge cock as it burrowed into him rapidly. Every vein, every muscle and every fold of skin bumped his sphincter as the shaft slid inside him, pushing him that bit closer to breaking point. A thousand thoughts hurtled through his mind, a thousand feelings clouded his sight – and yet his mind felt consumed by only one thought, his feelings drawn to only one source. Sephiroth. The man violating him for the second time, doing to him what should never be so violent and forceful. A moan fled from his lips as Vincent stretched on the harsh, rocky floor, pulling his lithe body taut in a way to alleviate the overpowering pleasures. His toes curled and his torso twisted, but with each powerful thrust Sephiroth gave the pleasure only increased, bubbling beneath his skin, fueling the fire raging inside. Vincent wanted to scream, to shout – to struggle. But he was bound by a psychic link, helpless and vulnerable.

   A pair of lips lowered to his left ear, brushing the strands of hair as they both rocked in unison on the ground. “Moan for me…” drifted a whisper so soft it echoed through his mind and merged with his being.

   The pace changed. The next thrust pushed so deeply inside him it sent a muffled shockwave right to the base of his skull and back down his spine – right in time for the next thrust, pressing his prostate so fully Vincent’s shoulders dug into the ground as his stomach raised high. He moaned, unable to suppress it. The actions were repeated, grinding in deep, driving him further from sanity. His vocal noises fled freely, his head twisted from side to side. The pressure in his navel was reaching a point he could no longer take. His longs legs struggled weakly either side of Sephiroth, out of his control.

   “Come for me,” the man commanded, his voice a scratching of air.

   Vincent gasped, his body bowing from the ground as suddenly his climax was upon him. All the building heat, the churning pleasures rolling about inside him snapped, driving full force to his erection. He cried out again as he came, spilling his essence between their bodies. The rush left his body too suddenly, and then he was empty, his chest heaving and his mind reeling.

   A split second later the breath was forced from his lungs as Sephiroth pounded into him one last time, gripping Vincent’s hips hard as he stilled and shuddered, expelling his thick, white seed into Vincent’s body. The gunman gasped as a heavy warmth entered his belly, filling and filling him impossibly full until he struggled to get away from it all. Sephiroth’s fingers bit into his skin as he held on, releasing all that he had as deep as he could. When he was finally finished, he relaxed his grip and exhaled leisurely, lowering his green eyes to Vincent’s closed ones as he gave a few slow, languid nudges to dissipate the vestiges of his climax.

   “Beautiful,” Sephiroth said. He leant over the panting man. “This is how I want you to look… all the time.” A hand slid between their bodies, trailing through Vincent’s mess to lovingly stroke the man’s filled belly. “Unraveled, breathless and full of my seed.”

   Vincent’s eyes peeled open to shoot a hateful, anguished glare at the general, infuriated beyond words at that devilish smirk crossing his face. He would kill Sephiroth. Somehow, he would break this curse and murder him. His dark thoughts were interrupted as the man’s lips descended onto his own, forcing his head still by a strong hand in his hair. When they parted Vincent could only glower.

   “Next time, I’ll make it last longer,” Sephiroth promised, his soft lips brushing the gunman’s. He removed his hand and departed from Vincent’s sore body. A trail of semen escaped in the wake and the pale man shuddered. Sephiroth was on his feet a second later, his limp cock back in the confines of his leather pants. “Much longer,” he whispered, and with that he was gone.

   The cave was lit by a sharp bright flash of lightning as a weight lifted from Vincent’s arms and he regained control of them. Turning over he climbed clumsily to his hands and knees, head handing in utter shame and humiliation. Warm semen ran down his inside thigh in alarming volumes and he gritted his teeth, vowing he would end Sephiroth’s life some way or another.

   Blood trickled down his back as he gathered his ripped leather and cape, wounded from the harsh action on the rocky ground. His outfit was ruined, torn so easily against the strength of his violator. He tossed it away bitterly, staring lifelessly at the floor as horrific memories and feelings replayed behind his eyes. The rain outside continued, but what he had once thought was protection now provided nothing more but misery.

   Finding his gun strewn across the cave he strapped it to his naked thigh, feeling the weight of the powerful weapon despite knowing it was now absolutely useless against its intended target. Vincent drew his cape to his cooling body, shivering in the air of the cave, listening to the sound of the water pummeling the land outside. He wished it could wash away his tortured memories…



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