Unnamed Story

BY : Roaming_Firefly
Category: Final Fantasy VII > Yaoi - Male/Male > Sephiroth/Vincent
Dragon prints: 2592
Disclaimer: see full disclaimer below

Author's Notes: Looks like there are some people who are (re-)finding me through this site, so here's a new chapter. I've also updated chapters 3 Nightmare, 6 Cultural Clash and 14 Maiden Voyage to their newly edited versions, because those are the chapters that had the biggest changes from their original versions, and I like the new versions better =D I might find some time to update all the other older chapters on here too, but we'll see. Anyways, hope you enjoy this long-ass chapter about sex~~

 

Warnings: Sex and sex-related stuff. Lots of sex and sex-related stuff.

 


Chapter 18 - Tutelage


 

A low moan pushed past Vincent's lips as Sephiroth sank his teeth at just the right pressure into a particular spot on his shoulder, and the audience cheered wildly in vicarious victory. As Sephiroth had long since discovered on the slave ship with Fenris's antics, demons most undoubtedly had VERY liberal views on the matters of sex. Sephiroth had expected jeers, derogatory comments, obscene jokes from the demon spectators looking down at the Archdaemon's slaves from their high seats, but none ever came. In fact, the whole thing was very...participatory. The spectators were not above rolling around on the rows of seats with one another along with the two men down in the arena. Sometimes they were making more of a show than the ones that they had come to watch.

It was not long, not long at all, before they noticed Sephiroth's inexperience, his quest and efforts to coax a response from the stubbornly silent ex-Turk; and it was not long before they noted how rare and precious every sound, every reaction were from Vincent...and they sympathized. They shouted out encouragements and cheered whenever Sephiroth succeeded in drawing forth a moan, a gasp, or some other kind of indication of pleasure from the quiet ex-Turk. And they shouted out tips and advice from their seats to the young silver-haired man.

"Try giving his ears a few good licks!" shouted a diminutive humanoid creature with huge furry ears on one of the front rows.

"Show him how brightly your eyes glow!" chided a matronly insectoid spectator with eight large glowing eyes, "How can he know what a virile mate you are if you don't show him your eyes?"

Sephiroth couldn't understand the way the audience was reacting to him. They were treating him like...like...how Angeal had treated promising new cadets, the best way he could describe it. They all seemed to mean well with their advising, though not all of the advices were physically possible with the number of limbs and joints and body parts he and Vincent actually had.

The people who frequented the Archdaemon's palace, the councillors and guards and palace staff, they too often gave out advice when they happen upon the young general when Vincent was not around.

Sephiroth didn't mind. His own knowledge of human sexuality was very limited. And the only time when he and Vincent had any significant amount of interactions with each other, the only time when he could really try to communicate with the stubbornly evasive ex-Turk, was during the Duel & Screw's. He was never good with words and had always preferred to prove himself through action. And so he welcomed any knowledge on the subject that might be helpful.

"Lay your coat under him Sephiroth," said a demon version of Cissnei, Second-in-Command of the Archdaemon's Guards, "the ground is hard and gritty, and not very pleasant to lie on."

...

Vincent blinked and stared at Sephiroth as the master swordsman carefully smoothed his coat over the floor of the arena and then looked back at the ex-Turk expectantly. The gesture was very much unexpected, and if Vincent didn't find the word so ill-fitting for the Silver General, he could almost say it was very...sweet. He hadn't really minded the bare ground before, he had had to make do with worse in his younger days. But, Vincent did appreciate having something soft and sturdy between his naked skin and the rough sandy ground.

Sharp mako-green eyes carefully watched the ex-Turk. The minute softening in the gunman's fine features and the flicker of appreciation in those crimson eyes as they roamed over the coat were not missed. And Vincent soon found the former general consistently wearing a long coat for the Duel & Screw shows, and meticulously arranging it on the ground every time before they begin the "second act".

...

"Does he look like he's made of glass to you? You friggin' destroy my worm-eaten arena walls with each other's spines every single bloody time, and yet when you lie with him you tiptoe around him as if he will fall apart from the slightest touch!" huffed Tah'rh, "A weak and unsure lover is just as unimpressive as a weak and unsure fighter. Bed him as you would fight him!"

At first Sephiroth had been...reluctant to follow the Archdaemon's advice, but the very next show, the infuriating ex-Turk seemed to have come to the decision to drive Sephiroth mad with his resolute refusal to give any response to his touch. Frustrated, the former general sank his teeth into Vincent's shoulder a bit harder than he meant to, and was surprised by a involuntary shiver of pleasure that rippled through the ex-Turk's lithe frame.

...

"You seem to be a skilled tactician in battle. Yet for the gentler arts, you always approach your targets head-on." said Albert the crow-butler absentmindedly as he straightened and replaced the practice dummies in the forest clearing, "A more indirect approach may be more effective when used with some strategy and planning..."

"He meant: don't always go straight for his balls." Reno cut in as he walked in, flirting with the pigeon-maids who were carrying in more bamboo stakes, "Tease him a little, brush your fingers over his dick as if you're going for it, but go right past it and pay attention to the thighs instead..."

...

Beautiful crimson eyes glared up at him as pale narrow hips involuntarily jerked towards his fingers. But Sephiroth only grinned and pulled his hand back just enough to keep his fingertips lightly on Vincent's flushed skin yet not give enough contact to satisfy.

"Sephiroth..." Vincent growled lowly from between clenched teeth. The audience loudly cheered their approval.

Crows have always had a reputation for being intelligent birds, Sephiroth supposed.

...

"...And #$%&#$ his &#%*&%...and when he &$#%, you #&#$%*$ &! #^%$$#&^*%..." the red-headed Captain of the Archdaemon's Guards kept going enthusiastically, oblivious...or willfully oblivious...to the increasingly heavy air around the members of his audience.

Sephiroth knew better than to take every advice given.

...

Advice was not the only thing given, however. Some in the Archdaemon's palace attempted to 'help' in other ways.

Sephiroth's elegant brows furrowed as he looked down at the new recipe that Fai had invited them to come to the kitchens and try.

The blond patissier was usually highly skilled in producing delicious new desserts, even with new ingredients such as the ones that they had to import for the human slaves. But this new creation of his was...strange.

It looked like a fruit salad for the most part, drizzled generously with chocolate sauce. But there was an oyster in the middle for some reason, and the entire thing smelled very strongly of spices.

Puzzled, yet willing to give Fai the benefit of the doubt, Sephiroth tentatively scooped up a spoonful and put it into his mouth.

"Well?" asked Fai, leaning over the kitchen counter, "How does it taste?"

"It's...very strong..." Sephiroth answered at length.

Vincent looked like he had no intention of trying the new 'dessert'. He had taken one look at it and simply sat there with his crimson eyes narrowed at the blond patissier.

"Did you just put everything in this book in there?" asked Sanji as he walked by, carrying a stack of pots and pans in one hand, and a slim book with bright-green stickers bookmarking its pages in the other.

"It looks like most of these foods are just generally good for the human body," the blond chef frowned at a bookmarked page, "good for blood-flow...good for energy...I'd have expected something that would induce sex-drive specifically in a book titled 'Aphrodisiac Foods for Huma-"

Before Sanji could finish, he was suddenly encased in a block of ice.

"Aha, it didn't taste very good, did it? No matter, I will get you something better next time." Fai smiled widely, retrieved the desserts, and made a tactical retreat.

...

"This is one of Tseng and Tah'rh's designs?" Sephiroth frowned in puzzlement at the garments that Virus and Trip were putting on him and Vincent.

Formal wear for an Archdaemon's slaves served two primary purposes: the first was to show that no weapons are concealed, to show that the Archdaemon is hospitable and bear no ill will to his or her guests; and the second was to show off the Archdaemon's wealth. So for the first purpose, formal slave-wear usually use very little fabrics and gave minimal coverage for the slaves' body. And for the second purpose, what little fabric there existed, were usually heavily decorated with jewels and decorations, which Tah'rh had protested as "gaudy".

This particular outfit that the clothiers dressed them in however, while not exactly generous with fabrics, seemed to serve neither purposes of a slave's formal wear. It left most of the torso bare, as was the norm for formal slave-wear. It covered the neck and shoulders, which was also the norm for formal slave-wear. The arms however, were supposed to be bare, and yet they were completely covered by black leather sleeves. The legs were also completely covered by black leather trousers. There was a piece cut out from the back of the trousers however, which left the buttocks bare, though Sephiroth wondered what purpose that could possibly serve, since everywhere else on the lower body that a weapon could be concealed were still covered. The entire outfit was made of skin-tight leather in a solid black colour though, so perhaps the tight fit and the simple colour scheme will prove the absence of hidden weaponry in place of the usual absence of fabric? But then the simple black leather did nothing to show off the Archdaemon's wealth, and the only decoration there were, were the numerous belts and buckles that were placed all over the outfit.

"Oh, no," chuckled Trip, "of course not."

"This is one of our own designs," explained Virus, "and it's not for formal settings. It's a little pet project, if you will, for our own interest. We're trying to come up with outfits that you can wear for the...ah...'Duel & Screw' shows. This is just a prototype. We'll have to show it to the Archdaemon and get her approval first. The idea behind the design is to make use of the natural beauty of your bodies to show off you fine gentlemen to the audience, while also be functionally useful for the show."

That would explain the thick, sturdy leather covering the arms, legs, shoulders and neck, but why leave the torso and buttocks bare? Were the weak points on a demon's body opposite that of humans? Did they not need protection for the organs in their torsos, or major arteries around the upper thigh and groin area? Were their extremities instead the more vulnerable areas that needed protection? Still puzzled, Sephiroth looked towards Vincent. The black leather did create a stark contrast against the gunman's pale skin, and Sephiroth inferred that the outfit would have the same effect on his own pale skin. That was probably the visual effect that the clothiers were aiming to achieve. It still didn't seem to be "functionally useful" though.

Also puzzling, was the fact that Vincent seemed to be vigorously trying to avoid looking at Sephiroth. Not that Vincent trying to avoid eye contact was anything new, but it seems to be worse today than ever. Sephiroth brought his gaze back to the clothiers fussing about him as he tried to figure out what could possibly be the cause. They haven't yet seen Nami today, and so have not conversed about the Cetra or anything relating to Vincent's comrades at all for the day. In fact nothing of note at all happened, save for this trip to the clothiers.

And Sephiroth could be mistaken, but Vincent's usually deathly pale face seemed to have a little more colour than usual. Perhaps it was just a visual illusion created by the black leather outfit. Whatever Virus and Trip were, Sephiroth did respect the talent and skill that they have shown in their profession, especially when it comes to creating visually effective designs. Not so much for the practical side of designs though, apparently. But then again the clothiers may not be fighters, and that might have contributed to the impracticality of this design. It didn't matter to Sephiroth though, his skill in battle and enhanced healing had meant that he needed little protection from clothing and armour anyway.

"Relax, Vincent, don't be such a stiff!" joked Trip, standing behind Sephiroth and turning the silver-haired man slightly as he helped Virus make adjustments on the trousers, "You like this design, do you."

Vincent's crimson eyes darted over to the grinning clothier and narrowed dangerously, then quickly darted away again to anywhere but Sephiroth's general direction.

Sephiroth inwardly sighed. Maybe he will figure out what goes on in that ex-Turk's skull, some day.

...

Fah'yn of course, did not hesitate to give his own helping hand. Quite a few of the spectators of the 'Duel & Screw's had been sending the two stars of the show various gifts, and not surprisingly, a lot of the gifts were lubricants of various kinds. Fah'yn volunteered to help them sort through those gifts since a lot of them were no doubt going to be made of ingredients foreign to both men and perhaps unsuitable for human use.

"Lubrication is very important, and absolutely necessary at times...for example in your case where your bodies can't produce your own. But even when they aren't necessary, they can still be great fun. There's no reason why you shouldn't experiment." instructed Fah'yn as he tossed a reddish bottle into the fast-growing 'not suitable for human use' pile, then picked up a pale-greenish one from the unsorted pile and furrowed his brows at the list of ingredients written on the bottle. The former general sat cross-legged on the floor with him, looking slightly overwhelmed from the sheer amount and variety of lubricants piled on the floor before them. In the kitchen Vincent was busily preparing his day's meal and studiously ignoring the two.

Vincent, Sephiroth was intrigued to discover, was a skilled cook. The ex-Turk moved about the kitchen with almost as much grace as he did on the battlefield.

Whether it was because of the ex-Turk's usual paranoia, his quiet, unobtrusive nature, or simply a food preference, Vincent never requested his meals from the palace kitchens, and whenever possible, had chosen to prepare everything he ate himself. Of course, that also meant that he had to stay in their suite with Sephiroth for a certain amount of time to cook his food. Sephiroth could almost see the gears grinding in the ex-Turk's head, trying to decide between his misgivings with using the palace kitchens and his misgivings with staying for any length of time alone with Sephiroth. In the end, his misgivings with using the palace kitchens won out.

Of course, he usually went with recipes that took little time to prepare. Whenever the two men had free time in their quarters, Vincent would quickly whip up something from the ingredients that were stored in their suite in a flurry of precise, practiced movements, pack up said food, and then disappear into the surrounding forest until the Archdaemon or her staff had need of him again.

However, when Fah'yn and Tah'rh had supplied their suite with food, they of course didn't choose only foods that were fast to cook. That left ingredients that required longer cooking times sitting there unused and expiring. And Vincent, Sephiroth had also noticed, seemed to be particularly against the idea of wasting food.

Sephiroth would have used those ingredients if he could. After all those hunger-resistance tests and training he had to go through in ShinRa — not to mention the battlefield situations he got into in Wutai, along side platoons of young men in their mako-enhanced prime — he was most certainly NOT one to under-appreciate the importance of food. It was just that he had no idea what to do with them. His skills in cooking weren't completely absent — it was part of SOLDIER survival training to know how to feed oneself when out in the wilderness. And he'd learnt bits and pieces from watching Angeal and Zack, who were probably the two most adequate cooks in the SOLDIER barracks full of young bachelor males, and those two cooked pretty often so that they didn't have to always eat what they called 'gunk' from the cafeteria. And Sephiroth was privately quite proud of the sandwiches he makes — it seemed that his heightened senses gave him an uncanny ability to tell which ingredients and how much of each would go well together (although Genesis was still absolutely hopeless when it came to putting food together, heightened senses or no). But those were his only exposure to cooking. When he was younger in the labs, everything he ate was handed to him on a metal tray, and Hojo watched everything that went into him like a hawk, making notes all the while. When he became general, President Shinra generously provided his favourite poster-boy with a team of private chefs, who were also watched closely by Hojo and who reported everything that went onto the general's plate to the Science Department.

The clinking sound made by the bottles as Fah'yn tossed yet another lubricant into the piles drew the former general's attention back to the Archdaemon's twin. Behind him, he could hear Vincent stirring his pot of delicious-smelling stew. That was the solution that the ex-Turk had settled on: whenever he had the chance, such as now with Fah'yn here and distracting the former general's attention, he would stay to cook the tough, sinewy cuts of meat, various grains and beans, etc. that required longer cooking time, so that they wouldn't go to waste.

"There's a nomadic people who called themselves the 'Phibians' who, during sex, secretes mucus over their entire body, and it feels absolutely incredible!" Fah'yn chatted as he studied a bottle containing a pale-gold liquid, his tail making leisurely circles on the floor as he began to recall a fond memory, "There was a Phibian girl I knew who had leaf-green skin with gorgeous stripes of bright red going up her sides. She was one spirited girl — graceful, agile, one of the best archers I have ever seen. Could shoot the wings off a fly while riding on a Water Hopper," Fah'yn sighed as his dark blue eyes unfocused in memory, "we used to race through the jungle. She was fearless on the back of a Hopper, and was equally fearless and fierce in bed. Even with sis and I double-teaming her, she could still hold her own and sometimes even turn the tables on us, flipping over the both of us with such quickness and skill that before we knew what was happening, she was riding high above us with the moon on her back and landing effortlessly onto an over-hanging tree branch..."

"...In bed?" Sephiroth's brows knitted together in confusion.

Fah'yn blinked at Sephiroth as he snapped out of his reverie and then chuckled good-naturedly, "Oh, no, I was talking about Hopper-racing through the jungle."

"But we did also team up on her in bed, and she beat our asses just as easily there too." added Fah'yn fondly.

Sephiroth's brows furrowed again as he tried to grasp the extremely easy-going attitude the demons had towards sex. It was certainly very different from anything he had experienced in his life in ShinRa. For the Shinra Science Department, after Hojo took over as head of department, the sadistic scientist had always taken great delight in tormenting the lab personnel under him who were stupid enough and unfortunate enough to show special affection towards one another under his watchful eyes. Those working in ShinRa's science department had therefore always kept careful distance from each other lest they bring Hojo's sadistic tendencies upon them. But the same couldn't be said for other departments of ShinRa. It was a well-known 'secret' that President ShinRa had had many mistresses — multiple ones at the same time at times. Scarlet and Heidegger...need not be mentioned. And the Turks, living on the edge as they do, shared their beds with many but gave their hearts to none. Those who had made the mistake of giving their hearts, quickly disappeared from their ranks. The young men of SOLDIER indulged in their magazines and posters and sometimes each other. They would sometimes engage in loud conversations with each other on the subject of sex. But most of it was simply posturing and boasting that the young men did for their peers. Nobody had ever really...talked about sex, not like this anyway.

"She...'was'?" Sephiroth asked. Throughout his speech, Fah'yn had only talked about this...Phibian lover in past tense.

"Oh, right." Fah'yn's tail stopped its moments and laid limp on the floor, "It's been several centuries since she...passed away."

"...I'm...sorry..." said Sephiroth awkwardly, unsure of how to act, of what was expected of him in these kinds of situations. But Fah'yn simply smiled gently and continued in his reverie.

"Her people only live a few centuries longer than humans, you see. We all knew it would happen sooner or later from the start, but when her time came, still..." Fah'yn sighed as he absent-mindedly rolled the small bottle of pale-gold lubricant in his hands, "None of us regret it though. And she had a good life, very long for her people." a small smile touched his lips as he tilted his head down at the bottle in his hands, "The Phibians are quite proud of their full-body lubrication. They say that it was the reason for their free and straight-forward nature. Said that no matter how many stones where thrown into the stream to complicate its path, they can always slip right past the obstacles and swim straight and true as if none were there. And that was how they lived: carefree, wild, outgoing and almost brutally candid — not allowing anything to over-complicate their way and weigh down their steps. After all, time is precious, even to those of us they call 'Undying'. You never know how long...or how short you have with those beside you. Not until it's too late."

In the kitchen, Vincent paused slightly and turned to regard Fah'yn from the corners of his eyes. The young man was sitting as serenely as ever and by all appearances, looked to be simply talking to Sephiroth about a memory. Yet somehow the ex-Turk got the distinct impression that those last words were directed at him.

"Here," Fah'yn pressed the pale-gold lubricant into Sephiroth's hand, "try this one. It's made to imitate the mucus that the Phibians secrete. It's one of the best-selling lubricants in the Axis, and it's proven to be 100% safe and effective for humans."

Sephiroth looked down at the small bottle that Fah'yn handed him. He had many questions pressing on his mind from Fah'yn's story, but after a moment's consideration, he chose to ask the one that had been bothering him in all his interactions with the palace staff.

"Fah'yn...why is it that you and everyone else here are so certain that I'm...myself and Vincent are...'human'?"

"Eh?" Fah'yn blinked, "What do you mean?"

Sephiroth sighed, "Everyone, the Archdaemon, the cooks, the household staff, are researching living and eating habits and specifications for 'humans'. And yet both you and the Archdaemon have admitted that we are...modified... ...Different. Perhaps something close to what you call, 'hybrids'?"

"Oh," Fah'yn tilted his head and considered for a moment, "I guess I haven't really thought about it that way. Come to think of it, we really should have asked you if there's anything different about your needs than other humans. You two ARE heavily modified, probably some of the most extreme cases I've ever seen. I guess we just all assumed...since you're still human at the base."

"Human at the base..." Sephiroth looked back down at his hands, or nothing really in particular, "but how do you know..."

"Sephiroth..." Fah'yn furrowed his brows at the troubled ex-general, "what do you consider yourself to be?"

Sephiroth looked at the Archdaemon's brother sitting across from him. The silver-haired young male's cross-legged pose mirrored the Silver General's, and he was holding yet another bottle of lubricant, in his left hand. Sephiroth looked down at his own hand that now absentmindedly rolled the bottle of pale gold lubricant that Fah'yn had given him. Left-handed. Just like Sephiroth. The Archdaemon's twin had many things superficially similar to Sephiroth, yet that superficial similarity only highlighted their much deeper differences. It was the same as on Gaia, amongst "normal" humans. Sephiroth was similar enough to pass as one of them, but his differences jutted out awkwardly, never truly fitting in the mold — not with "normal" humans, not with "enhanced" humans like the men of SOLDIER, not even with Genesis and Angeal. And here, in Hell, not with Inuyasha, Nero, or Fah'yn either.

"...A monster." answered Sephiroth truthfully.

In the kitchen, Vincent glanced at the silver-haired pair, but continued what he was doing.

To both men's surprise however, at Sephiroth's answer, Fah'yn coughed harshly to divert a laugh, then smiled apologetically at the former general once he gathered himself again: "Sorry sorry! I didn't mean to laugh at you, but that answer, that just proves it, you are human."

"What do you mean?" Sephiroth frowned in incomprehension.

"Well," explained Fah'yn, "in all the different peoples that I've seen in my travels, humans are the quickest to call what they don't understand: 'monsters'."

Sephiroth blinked, but then another one of his questions came to mind.

"Fah'yn..."

"Yes?"

The former general hesitated for a moment, but then continued, "Since our arrival, you have been very generous in extending your kindness to us, and you have my sincere gratitude. However...do you...dislike humans, the same as the Archdaemon?"

Fah'yn's eyes widened, and in the kitchen, Vincent stopped what he was doing and looked up at Sephiroth's bold question.

"Ah...well..." Fah'yn rubbed at his neck awkwardly, his tail also twitched nervously, "Sis is pretty vocal about what she thinks of humans, isn't she? The truth is, she really doesn't hate humans as much as she says she does. She just had some bad experiences with them, when we were younger."

"And what about you then, have you had those same 'experiences'?" the former general pressed on.

"Well, it's like..." Fah'yn started, then stopped and sighed, "You see, we in the Axis are children of the Currents. Not that you from mortal worlds aren't, but we're born more...directly from the Currents. And people from mortal worlds don't feel the ebb and flow of the Currents the way we do. There are mortal races who are sensitive to it, but humans in general, can't hear the Currents at all. And so they...would do things that those of the Axis wouldn't do. Not that the citizens of the Axis are all pure-hearts... But it's like, if they do something...big, they can feel the change in the flow of the Currents as a result of their actions, and they know that there'd be consequences. Humans on the other hand, are completely blind to that. And they're a very ingenious race, often coming up with ideas that no one in the Axis would ever think of. And...though some people of the Axis like to think of themselves as superior and impervious to the going-ons of the mortal world, in truth, everything in existence are connected, by the Currents, and even by us. And the actions of humans in the mortal world does eventually come to affect the Axis as well."

"How?" asked Sephiroth.

"Well, for one thing," answered Fah'yn, "there are individuals here who would like to do...questionable things, but they are afraid of the shifting in the Currents, the consequences. So they go and, try to borrow the hands of humans, to do their dirty work for them, so to speak. It is illegal and the Watchers try to prevent it from happening, but it happens. And when it does, life can get a little bit harder for everyone."

Sephiroth took a moment to consider this, then asked, "Is my existence, then, something that makes everyone's lives harder?"

"Eh?" Fah'yn blinked, caught off-guard, "I didn't mean... Well, I mean...it's possible for demons to have been involved...but humans are also capable of a lot of things by themselves...I mean...I don't know what exactly happened, obviously... But you..."

"So it is then." said Sephiroth matter-of-factly, staring down Fah'yn's fumbling.

Fah'yn paused, then sighed, deflating a little, "You really are a little too smart for your own good, and too darn pessimistic too."

Then suddenly, nimbly, the silver-haired twin brother of an Archdaemon swooped his tail forward and swatted a bottle of lube right at the brooding ex-general's nose. Sephiroth startled at the act, his quick reflexes had his hand up just in time to catch the bottle, and he blinked away his cross-eye to see Fah'yn smiling — a little mischievously — at him.

"Well, if you really want to be a calamity, you can choose to be that." said the smiling Fah'yn, "but if you want to be something else, you can choose something else too. It's up to you."

Sephiroth frowned at the other silver-haired man, not comprehending.

"Now come on, choose," Fah'yn turned to the piles of lubricants on the floor, "we still have so many lubricants to sort out. These ones here," he pointed to one of the piles, "they're flavoured lube. Which flavour do you prefer? Hmm...I don't think we have any that would be familiar to you...but these ones are sweet, and these have a bit of a spicy taste..."

Sephiroth let his gaze follow Fah'yn's, allowing the obvious change of subject. It was clear that Fah'yn was not going to continue on it, and Sephiroth didn't really want to continue either. Plus a question about the lubricants had been on his mind too.

"Why would one flavour lubricants? What purpose would that serve?" asked Sephiroth as he picked up and stared at a brightly-coloured one in puzzlement.

Moments passed and no answer came however, and the former general looked up to find Fah'yn simply staring at him wide-eyed with his jaw hanging open.

"What is it?" frowned Sephiroth.

Fah'yn's gaze drifted to Vincent in the kitchen, then drifted back to Sephiroth.

"Sephiroth, we need to talk." the silver-haired young man finally said.

...

"And you don't need to do the same thing every time," said Nami as she came up from behind Sephiroth with another stack of books in her arms. On Robin's desk was already several stacks of books and videos of 'reference material' that the two women had picked out for Sephiroth. Fah'yn had recommended Sephiroth to Robin and had asked Nami to make this special trip with him to the library while Totosai kept Vincent busy. And the two women took to this task very seriously and enthusiastically, picking out mostly videos and books that had a lot of pictures and diagrams in consideration of Sephiroth's inability to read the demon script.

"As long as it makes for a good show and the audience is entertained, then Tah'rh is happy." continued Nami as she put the stack of books down, "There's really no formula to follow, for the show or for yourselves. Here," she picked out a colourful book from the stack, "this has some very good examples of some of the ways that flavoured lubricants can be used."

...

Anger flashed in crimson eyes when Sephiroth made his request. Fine, thought Sephiroth as he glared back, somewhat disappointed. He did win the right to ask, but if Vincent was so against it, he wasn't going to force the overly-silent, obstinate, impossible, infuriating ex-Turk. Just when Sephiroth opened his mouth to voice his thoughts however, Vincent gracefully sank to his knees; his lips stretched around Sephiroth's girth, his beautiful, glaring orbs of blood red never leaving Sephiroth's surprised mako green. All words instantly died in Sephiroth's throat, and the great general stood, transfixed, until ecstasy rippled through his body and flooded hot and fast into Vincent's moist, suckling mouth. Sephiroth stood there breathlessly for a few moments more, simply watching as Vincent's pink tongue darted across his skin to catch some stray drops of pearly white, before he roughly pushed the ex-Turk to the ground, eager to return the favour of such a wonderful experience, and even more eager to try out everything else he had seen in the books with the overly-silent, obstinate, impossible, infuriating yet irresistibly alluring ex-Turk.

...

"This here is commonly known as the 'doggy' position," said Robin as she manipulated two dolls on her desk to demonstrate the position, "it gives easy access to the genitals and for the one doing the penetrating, it also is one of the easier positions for maneuverability and control over the speed and depth of your thrusts. You can also lean forward to stimulate his upper body and the nipples, and if you alter the position slightly by having his shoulders down on the floor like this, it will allow for deeper penetration. It's a common favourite among many of the Axis."

"It...looks a bit submissive for the one on the bottom..." said Sephiroth as he frowned at the dolls. Despite the fact that he had taunted the ex-Turk for having no pride, he knew it was not true. There was a difference between being yielding and being submissive, and from his experiences in Wutai, he knew well what a mistake it was to confuse the two. In fact, in Wutai, it often happened that when two people want the same thing, the older person, or the person with the higher status, will let the other have it, even though he/she is in a more powerful position and could have taken it from the other easily. There are words in the Wutai language for "yielding" that carried positive connotations of generosity, consideration and care-giving, whereas in the Eastern Continent, all words relating to letting another have something you want had negative connotations of submission and weakness. From Sephiroth's observations working and living with Vincent, he knew that the quiet ex-Turk was by no means weak or submissive, despite his outward compliance. And he was sure that the ex-Turk was at least part Wutaian.

So was that what the gunman was doing in the Duel & Screw shows? Vincent wasn't giving his all in the fights, but neither was Sephiroth. They both wanted to reserve their best for only when they would truly need it. But they were both proud warriors and always gave each other a fair fight, never throwing a match or intentionally handicapping themselves against the other. That was why Sephiroth felt no guilt taking a dominant role with Vincent during the "Screw", for he had won the right from a fair fight, and Vincent had accepted his losses as gracefully as he did everything else. But so far, Sephiroth had won every fight, and somehow, that was gnawing at him.

After every fight, Vincent would simply quietly let Sephiroth move him into whatever position that the former general wanted, and let him do whatever he wanted. Was the gunman simply..."yielding" to the younger man? And knowing that Vincent was a former Turk, it was reasonable to assume that Vincent had done what all the other Turks had done: do things to others, and let others do things to them, that the majority of the populace would never even consider, all for the goal of completing the tasks that ShinRa had given them. The Turks were true hounds of ShinRa.

So Vincent's continuous losses, his easy compliance after his losses, did he simply not care. Was their coupling simply a means to an end for the ex-Turk? Part of the mission to survive and escape their current predicament? Were Sephiroth's efforts to communicate with the stubborn man, during the only time when they have any physical contact with each other, not reaching him?

Lately Sephiroth had been finding himself trying to push the ex-Turk's boundaries, demanding more and more from him, wanting him to fight back, to refuse to do something. To respond, instead of making himself a pliant puppet, utterly uncaring of anything that the former general did to him.

But it was never Sephiroth's intention to do harm to or humiliate the ex-Turk. And looking at the dolls, he wondered if he'd be going too far if he made Vincent kneel for him like that.

"How so? If the one on the top is bending over to stimulate its mate...like so, then it's in the exact same pose, no?" Robin asked back, tilting her head at the former general innocently and gesturing to the dolls.

That much is true...considered Sephiroth as he stared at the dolls. The top one was bent over as much as the one on the bottom, with its arms wrapped around the body of its partner, their heads resting against each other. It looked...very intimate. Sephiroth felt his body heat up a little as he imagined doing that with Vincent. Come to think of it, the spirited Inuyasha didn't seem to mind when he and Fenris did this.

"Hmm I think this is enough for today," said Robin as she considered the stacks and stacks of books and videos that were picked out for Sephiroth, "We don't want to overwhelm you with too much at once. This, this...and this series should be good for now. I will make a record of the rest, so that you can come pick them up whenever you're ready to have a look at them."

Sephiroth nodded his thanks. As Robin picked up her dolls to put them back in her drawer however, Sephiroth noticed that their faces looked somewhat more...red than before. Were the dolls...blushing? Come to think of it, they did somewhat resemble the dolls that some ShinRa employees used to try to put a curse on their rivals.

Noticing Sephiroth's gaze, Robin paused, then lifted one of the dolls up, smiling fondly, "My cellmate from 9th Circle was released a bit earlier than I was. She left these dolls for me, for company and to remember her by, she said. She liked them a lot and had played with them all the time while we were imprisoned there. So I figured that they were precious to her, and so have kept them for her to this day."

"Your cellmate from 9th?" Nami blinked, "Are those dolls...enchanted?"

"I've never had the chance to ask her." Robin shrugged, "Maybe I will the next time I see her. Who knows, maybe she had the souls of her enemies forced inside these dolls, forever trapped in these bodies of limp cloth, doomed to live out the rest of eternity as mere playthings completely under the mercy of another's will."

As if to make a point, Robin's deft, graceful fingers made the doll do a little wave and a bow.

"You...you think so?" Nami's brown eye widened as she stared uneasily at the innocently 'waving' doll.

"It's just a guess." Robin shrugged again, "For all I know, they can just be ordinary dolls."

She then casually tossed the doll into her drawer along with its companion. The motion jostled the doll so that its torso was bent in an awkward, unnatural angle. Sephiroth wasn't sure but he thought he might have caught an expression of distress on the doll's face before the drawer was slid closed.

The former general averted his eyes from the drawer.

...

A low growl reverberated through Vincent's mind as Sephiroth pulled his hips high in the air into what is now apparently the silver general's favourite sex position. Inside his mind, his demons were livid at being defeated once again. Especially Chaos. Apparently for demons, their courtship rituals involve both parties taking turns putting on displays of strength for each other. And so far, Sephiroth's "display of strength" has more than done enough to impress the demons, and now they are insisting that they reciprocate with a display of strength of their own. Needless to say, Vincent's reluctance to allow his two most powerful demons to manifest and battle Sephiroth, and his continuous losses are making the demons VERY unhappy.

Host! What in the Everlasting Winds is WRONG with you?

The Silver Fledgling goads us!

He knows we can fight him harder!

He's trying everything he can to make us do it!

If you don't hurry up and take him, he will think of us as weak and unworthy mates!

Or think that WE do not think of HIM as a worthy mate to fight for!

They were getting more and more agitated, louder and louder each time, making it VERY hard for the ex-Turk to focus on anything else. Vincent mentally sighed against all the clamour and tried to tell his demons — again — that the element of surprise is the only card they have against the powerful Archdaemon. If they want to escape from their enslavement, then they need choose when to use it very carefully.

Excuses! We can make the Silver Fledgeling our bonded mate, and then together we can challenge the Sun-treader for our freedom!

Vincent wondered where Chaos's confidence came from. They knew so precious little about their enemy, they barely even knew their only possible ally. They didn't know if Sephiroth would even want to become their "bonded mate", or would help them fight the Archdaemon and her posse.

The Silver Fledgeling wants us.

And he wants freedom as much as we do.

Maybe even more.

If you would just stop running from him, you will see.

He will help us.

He will be a good mate.

He is a good mate.

We must act now!

Too many strong demons around!

They might take our mate if we keep stalling like this!

They would!

...Why haven't they? Vincent wondered. The demons here have long proved that they were NOT shy about pursuing someone, or coupling with someone...even in public spaces. And it was hard to miss the assessing looks that both he and Sephiroth have been receiving — the demons made no effort to hide them. But so far, no one had tried anything beyond just looking.

That's because the Sun-treader has not yet bedded you.

She has first right to you.

She is their sovereign.

Our slave-master.

The Master of this territory.

But she has not touched you.

Why?

Why?

That's what Vincent liked to know too.

So far Tah'rh had used her slaves mostly for making money in the stadium, but that was not the original reason why she had bought them. She had bought them so that they can appear in meetings between her and other demon lords. Though that had been delayed because of the "Duel & Screw" shows, and because there was a lot to learn for both Vincent and Sephiroth, and Tah'rh about the many many etiquettes surrounding slaves and slave ownership, lately, inevitably, Tah'rh and Tseng had begun bringing the two men to formal and semi-formal meetings with minor demon lords.

From the meetings that Vincent and Sephiroth had attended, it was clear that it was common practice for demon lords to exchange slaves with each other for a night or two for sexual pleasure, as a social bonding exercise, a show of hospitality and good will, and a show of their rare slaves. But so far, Tah'rh had only received other demon lords as guests, and as the host, she had never voluntarily offered her slaves. And it seemed to be poor etiquette for guests to ask for their host's slaves before they were offered — especially when the host hadn't yet touched her own slaves herself. And so even though some of the demon lords had eyed Vincent and Sephiroth with blatant interest, they could only try to subtly bring the issue to Tah'rh's attention. And every time that happened, Tah'rh had acted the oblivious fool, letting subtlety completely fly over her head. And so the demon lords could only sigh to themselves, shake their heads, and whisper to each other that the young Archdaemon had no idea what she was doing with her slaves. But Vincent wondered if Tah'rh was truly as oblivious as she acted, or was she using her reputed inexperience and brashness as a shield to...protect her slaves. But if so, why? What benefit could she possibly gain from doing that? But even if she truly was trying to protect her slaves from having to serve in other demon lords' beds, she couldn't hide behind the advantage of being the host forever. She will have to go visit other demon lords, and even other Archdaemons as their guest eventually. What will happen to her slaves then?

Troubled by these thoughts, Vincent did not notice that his body's automatic movements had slowed. Sephiroth obviously sensed the ex-Turk's distraction then, for he then bit hard into that particular spot at the junction of Vincent's neck and shoulder.

A low moan was forced past Vincent's lips, and the audience wildly cheered. Sephiroth then paused a little, shifted a little, then resumed his vigorous movements, angling each forceful thrust directly into the ex-Turk's prostate. Wet sounds of flesh slapping against flesh echoed in the air around them as Sephiroth's repeatedly pounded into Vincent's backside, purposely bouncing the ex-Turk's swollen cock, left completely unattended for he held Vincent's wrists firmly behind his back with one hand. And now, the other hand, the former general trailed it firmly, suggestively from Vincent's hip down to his thigh, then across to his groin, then to hardened flesh that pulsed and ached with the need to be touched. But the former general would not let the ex-Turk off so easily. His fingers made feather-light trails over the hard, hot cock, but danced away teasingly every time Vincent's hips jerked involuntarily in an attempt to gain more contact.

"Sephiroth..." Vincent growled lowly from between clenched teeth, turning his head slightly so that he could give the former general his hardest glare from his position on the ground.

Against a backdrop of cheering spectators, Sephiroth only smirked down at him in response, and then, as if daring him to retaliate, released his trapped wrists.

"Touch yourself." the former general commanded.

Anger flashed in Vincent's crimson eyes, but still, his hands obediently moved to wrap around his own length.

Sephiroth leaned down and grinned against Vincent's ear before he gave it a kiss, and whispered: "Very good, Turk."

A low growl rumbled in Vincent's chest that he wasn't sure anymore was his own or his demons'.

Perhaps he should try, really try to win a round of 'Duel & Screw', just once.

He had to admit that he admired Sephiroth's boldness though. In the face of an uncertain future, the young man had briskly and fearlessly walked down whichever path he chose, as if it were the last chance he will ever get to walk.

And perhaps it was, for the both of them.

"Come for me, Vincent." Sephiroth whispered again in Vincent's ear. A command, yet not, tinged subtly with the timbre of a plea. Desperation that was not entirely due to an imminent orgasm pounded over and over again inside Vincent's body.

And Vincent's body obeyed.

Just once then. Vincent allowed his own moans as his body shuddered in spasms and spurts of his semen shot onto Sephiroth's coat.

Just once. Before their temporary bubble of relative safety eventually, inevitably, bursts.

 



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