AESTHETICS

BY : GodOfInsanity
Category: Final Fantasy VII > Yaoi - Male/Male > Sephiroth/Vincent
Dragon prints: 1394
Disclaimer: I do not own Square Enix's Final Fantasy 7 or any of its characters. I also do not profit from this. This is written purely for practice and for fun.

AESTHETICS

Chapter warning(s): Language, Humor, Slight angst, Sexual Tension, Some M/M Yaoi

 

 


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 CH03: The Tease

 

For a moment, it seemed as if time had frozen. It felt so unreal as the Turk felt the tentative press of lips against his own. As sloppy and inexperienced as the kiss was, it still felt as if for a moment, Vincent had been drawn into a surreal dream that was not of his making.

Unfortunately, reality did what it always did: it crashed down upon the gunman like a powerful, merciless tidal wave. He immediately splayed his normal hand flat against the younger man’s chest and used enough force to break them apart. Part of him regretted it as soon as he glimpsed the brief expression of hurt that momentarily stung the General’s stunned visage.

Before Sephiroth could open his mouth to muster a protest, Vincent swiftly beat him to the punch. “I am not here for that. It is nothing personal towards you, but I aim to remain as professional as possible and ensure that you have recovered. This…whatever you are attempting to do--it will not help you.”

Sephiroth crossed his strong arms over his chest as he huffed, “How do you know? You think I want you because I’m hurt? I do not even remember what supposedly ‘hurt’ me.”

The Turk shook his head in disagreement. “That is exactly why this…thing has to stop. It could unhinge you, or worse, force you into another relapse. You do not remember because your subconscious does not want you to remember. It is obvious that you are protecting yourself from further harm, Sephiroth. That’s how traumatized minds work.”

Something that the Turk had said had specifically struck a nerve in the General as he stood there staring at the Turk without blinking. His lips set in a thin, unpleasant line as he narrowed his eyes. The General’s slit-like pupils shrank until they were barely visible in his glowing eyes. Turning sharply on his booted foot, Sephiroth hastily exited the room without another word.

Once Sephiroth had made it to his room, he slowly opened the door as if it were some fragile thing. Pausing in the doorway, he nearly turned around to look, but then quickly shook the thoughts away. Entering the room, he closed the door more gently and slowly than he had opened it. If Sephiroth had been angry, he would have surely slammed the door. Something that was not rage filled his core with such  raw, unshakable power that it left him feeling something he thought felt faintly familiar, yet entirely unwelcome since he could  not identity it. Something about the ache, or whatever it was, (he didn’t know for sure what it could be), felt like something he had suffered through once before.

As the General gazed unblinkingly at the bland ceiling from his spot on his bed, he mused that what he was experiencing now felt vaguely like drowning in a locked room filled to the ceiling with dark water.

 


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  The young General restlessly paced back and forth in his quiet room. He had absolutely nothing to do and couldn’t think of anything to busy himself with. The thought to work on his sword form had occurred to him already, but he couldn’t train in his room since it was too small. That and he was still avoiding the other man very much like a child would. He normally was a logical person that directly and promptly dealt with his problems using an analytical mind frame.

Unfortunately, the problem that hung over him like a bad omen was something he did not comprehend at all since there was nothing rational or logical about it. Because of his ‘upbringing’, feeling and emotions were something that he had great difficulty understanding. His prime directive wasn’t to access how he felt personally; it was always focused on how he could physically control himself and carry out his orders. In a lot of ways, he felt more like a machine than a man.

Growling in frustration, he marched over to the window and wrenched open the drapes to glare resentfully at Shinra Headquarters, which was conveniently located not too far from his ‘house’. In fact, his house was placed directly on Shinra grounds, which also meant that getting to work was barely a five minute walk for him. The General was used to it by now since all he had ever known was Shinra, but that didn’t stop him from longing to be elsewhere.

Speed dialing Lazard, Sephiroth waited for the man to pick up. As soon as he heard Lazard’s bored, reticent voice, he automatically demanded, “Director, where are Angeal and Genesis being sent off to.”

Not the least bit fazed by Sephiroth’s acute coldness, the Director curtly answered, “Wutai.”

“Why did you send them to Wutai?”

“To smooth things over. There was…a little dispute between some of the local natives and our Soldiers fairly recently. Nothing too serious. Just a few skirmishes that resulted in a couple of Soldiers and several locals being hospitalized,” said Lazard as if he had been completely prepared to be interrogated by Shinra’s Silver General. The reserved Director was well aware of just how close Sephiroth was to his two best friends. He knew that Angeal and Genesis were pretty much the closest thing the General had regarding family.

Sephiroth continued pacing back and forth like an edgy wildcat while he held the phone. The gears ground nonstop in his head as he digested this new bit of information. He wasn’t alarmed by what he had just been told. It was not news to him that the proud nation of Wutai despised Shinra and its influence. It wanted nothing more than to drive Shinra and his Soldiers out of its country. In some ways, he did not blame them for wanting to continue their own independence. He was actually impressed by the fact that the unenhanced Wutai rebels had been capable of injuring enhanced Soldiers.

“Sephiroth? Are you still there?” Calmly questioned the Director.

The silver-haired man placed the phone back to his ear and said, “Yes, Director, I am still here.”

“Do you have any more questions regarding the mission?”

“When will they be back?”

Lazard sighed, “I’m not entirely certain. It shouldn’t take more than a couple of days, but you never know given these kinds of situations.”

“Hn,” murmured Sephiroth as he tried to figure out if the other man was lying to him or not. He had never actually caught the Director in a lie, but that didn’t mean anything. The General trusted people even less now, especially after everything Professor Hojo had put him through. “If you would, Director, please keep me updated.”

“Of course,” replied Lazard.

The General was about to hang up the phone when he heard the Director’s voice speak again. “Sephiroth, how are you faring? I heard that you have a Turk as a bodyguard now.”

“I am fine,” responded Sephiroth with an undertone of annoyance in his voice. It was very subtle and only those who knew him well could detect it. In all honestly, he was beginning to tire of being treated like a fragile thing. Everyone tiptoed around him and held his hand as if he might break. He felt fine even though everyone insisted that he wasn’t fine. There was nothing wrong with his mind or his body, so why all the fuss?

Lazard didn’t indicate in any way whether he believed Sephiroth or not. Instead, he merely questioned, “How about the Turk, Vincent Valentine, if I recall. Is he treating you well?”

“Director, he is a Turk. And he is maddening. I wonder if Verdot will notice if one of his beloved Turks ends up missing indefinitely.”

“Sephiroth, I don’t think Veld would appreciate losing Valentine twice,” chided Lazard with a bit of warmth in his voice that was oddly uncharacteristic of him.

Frowning, Sephiroth wondered why the Director was suddenly being…well, nice to him. Lazard wasn’t a mean or cruel man by any means, but nor was he overly friendly. He was a reserved man that took his job a little too seriously. In fact, Sephiroth suspected that Lazard had ulterior motives concerning his position in the company. Something about the blond-haired Director gave the General the distinct impression that Lazard had an axe to grind with someone. With who, Sephiroth did not know. As long as it did not concern him or his friends, he didn’t particularly care.

“How unfortunate,” drawled Sephiroth.

“I have to go now, Sephiroth. The President is calling me on the other line. If you need me, do not hesitate to call,” sighed Lazard as he ended the phone call.

Sephiroth half-smiled. He had caught the slight inflection of the Director’s voice when he had mentioned Shinra. Ah, so was that who Lazard wanted to ruin? If so, then good riddance. Sephiroth wouldn’t miss the President since he was quite certain that Shinra had had a hand in what had been done to him and to Vincent.

 

 


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Several hours later, Sephiroth awoke to the abrupt knocking on his bedroom door. Ignoring it, he rolled over, turning his back to the door and wrapped the blanket more tightly around him.

“Sephiroth? Please tell me you’re not sleeping,” groaned Vincent.

The stubborn General didn’t offer a reply as he wrapped the pillow around his head to try and muffle the Turk’s unbearably deep and sexy voice. Unfortunately, the pillow offered no sanctuary for him since his hearing was as enhanced as all of his other senses. Grunting, he burrowed deeper under the blankets even though he was wide awake now. Damn that sexy man and his stupid sexy voice.

“Sephiroth?” Called the Turk again as he paused to listen at the door. Nothing. Sighing, he began again, “Awake or not, I am coming in now.”

Bolting up into an upright position, Sephiroth smirked deviously. This was his bedroom and if the Turk wanted to invade his own private chambers, then he would launch his own attack against Valentine.

Slowly opening the door, Vincent cautiously peeked inside and noticed a suspicious bundle of something underneath the bed sheets. Stepping inside the dark room, he peered more closely at the bed since something told him that there wasn’t anything quite right with the way the form looked underneath the blankets. Cautiously edging closer, he then realized with a start that this was a diversion. Before he could turn around, someone with an iron grip grabbed him and threw him forcibly on the bed.

Landing on his back on the bed, Vincent instantly scrambled up only to be pushed down by his assailant. He was about to start struggling when he felt a body straddle him. He grunted when he felt the press of a well-toned ass to his groin. He may only have touched it once or twice, but he knew who that ass belonged to.

“Hi Vincent,” greeted a half-naked Sephiroth as he dragged his blunt nails across Vincent’s clothed chest. Smirking down at the Turk, he stopped and splayed his hands across the gunman’s chest to brace himself as he leaned over. Face scant inches away from the Turk’s, his cheeky grin only deepened as he gazed impishly down at him. “Vincent, I was sleeping.”

“I am beginning to believe that you are indeed a cat,” remarked the Turk as he fought to suppress the budding arousal that was starting to inundate his senses. It was increasingly hard to resist something that every part of him (except for a small part of his mind) wanted to surrender to. He wanted to tell him to get off of him, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Nor could he bring himself to physically push Sephiroth off of him since he wasn’t entirely sure what his own hands would do if given the chance.

The mischievous General stared down at the exposed part of Vincent’s pale neck. Part of his long, strong neck was concealed by that tedious collar with the straps. That would not do, of course. He used his left hand to tug it down so that he could see the rest of the man’s lovely neck. It was smooth and unblemished unlike the rest of the gunman’s body. Sephiroth knew that various parts of the Turk’s modified body bore the telltale scars of experimentation.

“You slept in a coffin for years…why? Do you think that you’re a vampire?” Inquired the curious younger man as he imagined bite marks on the older man’s neck.

Vincent said nothing; he merely blankly stared up at the other male. Whatever he was thinking was hidden well by his usual apathetic countenance.

Not particularly annoyed by Vincent’s avoidance of his question, Sephiroth simply brushed it off. If he had been any other person, he may have been annoyed. But he wasn’t anyone else, which was probably why he didn’t take offense to it. After all, Vincent’s past and thoughts belonged to no one but himself and if he didn’t want to share anything, Sephiroth would never press him for it.

Eyes glued to Vincent’s neck, Sephiroth slowly leaned in for the kill. He lightly pressed his lips to the Turk’s neck and felt the man twitch from the touch. Next, he trailed his tongue alone the skin in a teasing dance. He could tell that Vincent, for whatever reasons, was doing his best not to react to it. Smirking now, the General then stretched his jaws wider open and lightly dragged his teeth along the Turk’s jugular. He was pleased when he felt Vincent tense beneath him like prey entrapped in the jaws of a predator.

Sephiroth was sorely tempted to bite him, to break some skin, yet instead, he settled for merely sucking on the other man’s neck. His neck was so white, so unmarked. He would mark him in another way. Chuckling darkly to himself, the young man proceeded to mark the Turk’s neck with his mouth. Immensely pleased by all the dark blotches on the gunman’s neck, Sephiroth proceeded to suck hard on the upper part of Vincent’s neck. It was the only section of the Turk’s neck that was visible to other people.

Vincent was far from amused. His deep voice was nearly a growl as he warned, “Sephiroth…”

“What’s the matter? You don’t like love bites? That’s what Gen calls them. He always wears them with pride,” snickered the General with a smirk playing on his lips.

“Sephiroth,” sighed the Turk as he tried to reign in as much self control as possible. It was practically impossible to accomplish such a thing since he presently had, on top of him no less, an utterly gorgeous, sexy young man that seemed to ooze sex pheromones. And to top it off, the kid was teasing him.

Of course he is teasing you, host. If I had control of this body, I would not have him astride me teasing me. I would have him on his knees serving me.

Chaos had the habit of remaining silent for such a time that after awhile, Vincent would almost forget that he was inhabited by him and the others. The other demons were quiet the majority of the time, but he suspected that was most likely due to Chaos being the most dominant out of them all and possibly because whatever Chaos pestered him about, the others probably agreed with him. Whatever the reasons were, he was relieved the others were nowhere near as verbal as Chaos.

Staring up at the smug General, Vincent silently thanked Lucrecia for the ProtoMateria. The brat was lucky he had it or else he would have undoubtedly become the literal definition of fucked.

“Hm…” The jade-eyed youth wriggled around, acted surprised and slowly looked down at what he was sitting on. Raising his eyebrows in mock surprise, he looked at Vincent’s face and pointed to the noticeable bulge in the Turk’s pants. “You might want to do something about that.”

And with those implied words, the General back flipped off of the bed with ease before he landed on the floor like a cat. Snatching a random shirt, he shoved it on before he delicately removed Masamune from its holder. As he strode confidently out of his bedroom door, he glanced over his shoulder at Vincent and asked, “Hate me, yet?”

 


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Forty-five minutes later, Vincent was still standing hunched over with his skull pressed against the wall tiles of the shower. The cold spray of water pounded relentlessly at his naked body, but he barely felt it since he was so cold that his body felt numb. It had taken nearly an hour for him to get his body back under control even with the help of ice cold water and unpleasant thoughts. The dark-haired man had refused to deal with the ‘problem’ the old fashioned, quick and easy sort of way.

It bothered him that he was attracted to Sephiroth, Lucrecia’s son. It was his fault the kid had been subjected to cruel experiments since conception. He had failed to stop it and he had failed to save Lucrecia and her child. To others, his guilt seemed unreasonable, but to him, it was every reason he had. His human life had ended years ago as a result of his Sin. He would never be the same and he would never see things the same way as most humans did.

Vincent was determined to atone for his Sin. He was prepared to watch over and protect Sephiroth from any danger that presented itself. There was no way he was going to allow Hojo near the General ever again and this time, if he had to, he would make sure he died for it. He would not fail again.

And whenever he did find Hojo, and oh yes, he would find him, Vincent would make that despicable man pay for every single wretched sin.

Shutting the shower off, Vincent stepped out and grabbed the closest towel. He took a few minutes to pat himself dry before he methodically dressed back in his usual attire. Once he was finished, he opened the bathroom door to leave when he finally noticed something odd. Turning towards the sink, he realized that there was no mirror. There was a medicine cabinet with a frame, a frame that should have a mirror in it. But it was missing.

Come to think of it, Vincent didn’t remember seeing any other mirrors in the whole house. He wondered why the mirrors were missing and how Sephiroth was able to live without one. Sure, mirrors could be a thing of vanity for some people, but they were essential things that came in handy when it came to appearance.

Since Sephiroth was the esteemed General of Shinra, appearance was something very important. Why would he get rid of all the mirrors? Was he trying to mess with Vincent’s head or maybe, just maybe it was actually a psychological issue that had nothing at all to do with the gunman?

Vincent didn’t know the answers to those questions, but he was dead set on getting his answers.

 


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The Turk was unsurprised to find Sephiroth training in his personal fitness room. It was about the size of a large living room and it gave enough room for the General to work out. There was also other training equipment in the room, which were mostly tools to stretch and work out certain muscles of the body.

This time Sephiroth was not caught unaware by Vincent’s assassin-like approach. Without turning around, he continued the playful, effortless dance of his sword as he talked, “Why hello, Vincent. You were gone so long…I was beginning to worry.”

“Forgive me, I would have been here sooner, but alas, my beauty ritual took much longer than usual because I couldn’t find a single mirror in the entire house,” drawled Vincent as he tried to remain neutral, but couldn’t quite keep the slight bite of sarcasm from out of his voice.

The General immediately halted all movement at the word mirror; turning around slowly, he didn’t even lower Masamune as he stared at the Turk with a dead panned look set on his pallid face. His voice was low and humorless as he inquired icily, “Just what…are you getting at, Valentine?”

 


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A/N: Another cliffy. I know, I’m evil. At least I update quickly, though. Anywho, thanks for all the feedback. It surely does motivate my tired, weary bones. ;)



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