At least he's hot

Chapter 11 - morphine be damned

warnings: uh... nothing you're not used to by now. So unless you're bothered by fist-fucking and prolific cursing, read on.


Guarding the elevator was the most boring post a security guard could possibly be assigned to, and for Joe Brown’s sad luck, he had been stuck on the post for almost a month. He knew he wasn’t the brightest guy in ShinRa’s ranks, and definitely not the best in combat, but come on… he thought he deserved a little better. This post was the moral equivalent of getting ass fucked – it was just humiliating. He might as well have had a sign around his neck that read “I’M AN INCOMPETNT FOOL.”

However, things had ‘picked up’ during the last half hour, as much as they could at his post. The elevator had abruptly stopped in between the twenty-second and twenty-first floors, and hadn’t moved for several long minutes. Just as he was thinking about going into the surveillance room to check the camera, the elevator had lurched into motion again. Now he felt the descending chamber finally settle on the ground floor with a mix of anticipation and dread churning in his gut. He wondered what had gone wrong… if anything. The probability of an actual threat lurking behind those metal doors was minimal, but there was still a slight chance that it could be a malfunctioning security-bot or a mutated monster from Hojo’s lab… or worse. Avalanche? A bomb?

No wonder they have me on this post… he thought dryly, fighting down an unnecessary bout of panic.

He tried to compose himself as much as possible when the doors slid apart, clutching his rifle firmly in his shaking hands. A gust of hot, cologne-scented air greeted his senses, followed by a drunken hiccup. He relaxed slightly, knowing that whatever was in there was human, then immediately bristled up again when he saw none other than General Sephiroth stride out of the cramped space, glazed with sweat and slightly disheveled. Following closely behind him was Rufus ShinRa, the president’s metrosexual son, who was also sweating, ruffled, and obviously plastered. Joe wasn’t a genius, but it wasn’t hard for him to figure out that the two men had been doing something more active than waiting in there. Fucking? Fighting? Both?

Sephiroth turned to face Joe with a glare that made his blood run cold. “Isn’t it your job to fix the fucking elevator?” he growled. Joe just nodded dumbly. “It was so hot in there Rufus ShinRa was on his knees. He almost fainted.”

“Uh… sorry, General, Sir… I’ll… uh… fix it right away,” Joe stuttered. He peered into the chamber, to find the glass window fogged up with condensation. He also noted the security camera - what was left of it, rather - smashed into bits on the floor.

“Yeah, and your surveillance equipment is in blatant disrepair,” Rufus chimed in, standing so close to the silver-haired General they were almost touching. “How do you expect to catch criminal activity without a camera?”

“It was fine the last time I checked it,” Joe said defensively. “I don’t understand…”

“Does that look fine to you?” Sephiroth snapped, gesturing at the ruinous heap of plastic and metal on the floor. “For fuck’s sake, I should have you fired…” With that said, both men turned and walked casually away, Rufus shooting one last impetuous glare in Joe’s direction before they left through the front entrance.

Either I’m crazy or those two had sex in there, Joe thought, watching the duo disappear into the night. He instantly felt the impulse to tell someone about it… but nixed the thought as soon as it developed. Sephiroth would kill him if he found out, and Joe didn’t particularly want to die. He sighed passively, then left to retrieve some cleaning equipment.

* * *

“Look, I don’t know if this is the best idea, bro.” The thug’s raspy voice sounded more than a little worried over the phone. Reno sighed impatiently and took a drag of his smoke, watching the night progress from his vantage point on the bridge. It was an unusually windy night; the cool air pierced through his suit and chilled him to the bone.

“I don’t care if it’s the worst idea I’ve ever had,” he growled into the receiver. “You guys owe me one, and we’re going through with it no matter what you think.”

After leaving Rufus’ office, Reno had wandered like a zombie around the city, unable to think, unable to speak. He had ended up here, on a wide pedestrian bridge that overlooked the bustling above-the-plate party district. Girls in shimmering nightgowns and stilettos staggered drunkenly from club to club; men smoked cigars and hooted at the women; limousines and convertibles honked their horns as they sped down the drag. Plate life was totally alien to him… his only involvement with the culture had been illegal – robbing them, picking their pockets, selling them cocaine. The rich were marks. Income. Ironically, now that he was a Turk, he was invariably working for them. ShinRa Inc was a rich man’s best friend.

“Well… okay,” the thug finally responded. “Only because we owe you one, though. We’ll meet you at our spot at 2AM, ready to go.”

“Good,” Reno said quietly, then flipped the phone closed. He glared hotly at the city under him, listening to the annoying symphony of upper-class night life. There. It was done. No turning back now. Really, the plan had been set in his mind long before he actually made the call. It had been set as soon as Rufus had cracked that sinister grin back in the office. His heart was beating fast with anticipation and rage… the need for bloodshed was overwhelming, the need to smash something, crush, kill. Like a calling. Despite his humiliation, Reno felt invincible, like he could jump off this very bridge and hit the ground running. He was going to get his revenge and nothing was going to stop him, especially now that he had the support of his crew – three crazy, tattooed motherfuckers that used to run with him before he unwillingly joined the Turks. Old friends, streetkids. Of course, they weren’t quite as close to him now that he was working for ShinRa, but the bond still remained, and always would. And tonight was going to be just like old times.

Reno took one last drag of his cigarette and flicked it over the railing, hoping it would land in some stiletto-and-spaghetti-strap bitch’s hundred-gil hairdo. City lights flashed, club music blared, engines roared. Plate life. They all deserved to die, the opulent fucks. At least one rich, snot-nosed yuppie was going to get what he deserved tonight. Rufus ShinRa was going to regret ever swaggering into his life.

* * *

Rufus was having a hard time believing his luck. Sephiroth had accompanied him to his apartment without muttering one snide remark, he had smartly kept his hands to himself in the elevator, and he’d even taken his boots off on the welcome mat. The General’s unusually polite behavior was both relieving and disconcerting… Rufus had to wonder if the man had taken drugs or something. There was no tangible reason why he was being so respectful. After all, wasn’t Rufus in the doghouse for fucking Reno? It just didn’t make any sense.

His thoughts melted away as he slid open the glass door and stepped into his large, white-tiled shower. He had set the water to a steaming hot temperature, just hot enough to make him sweat out his drunkenness a little. He wet down his hair and turned his back to the shower head, letting the water pour over his sore neck and shoulders. Just being around Sephiroth had made him nervous enough to knot up his muscles. The man was so unnerving, especially when he was being nice for no foreseeable reason.

“Take a shower, will you?” the General had mumbled after stretching out on the couch. “You smell like bourbon and Reno’s cologne.”

Well, okay. That made sense. Yet another weird thing to ponder – the General was sober and Rufus was the one who reeked of booze. Sephiroth had told him that he was taking a break from getting drunk. Perhaps the man had finally realized that he was a total fucking prick when he was plastered.

Rufus grabbed his bottle of volume-enhancing herbal shampoo, poured some into his hand, and lathered it into his hair. You smell like bourbon and Reno’s cologne, Sephiroth had said. Oops. His interaction with Reno in the office was a complete blur – he still couldn’t believe that he had actually done something like that. Rape. Coercion. Revenge. He had always considered himself to be mild mannered and passive, able to tolerate anything. I guess Reno just pushed me over the edge, he thought dryly. The sadistic nature of his actions actually frightened him a little. Perhaps it was a shadow of what he was to become when he took over his old man’s throne… was he going to rule ShinRa with an iron fist? Was he gong to be as bad – or worse, even – than his father? He tried to dismiss the thought as nonsense. Reno had put him in the hospital. The asshole had deserved it.

Rufus closed his eyes and rinsed out the shampoo, inhaling the herb-scented steam that filled the chamber. When his hair was rinsed out, he rubbed in some conditioner and let it soak in while he soaped up his body with a loofa sponge and pomegranate-orange exfoliating body wash. Everyone that spent the night in his apartment had made the same remark - you have more toiletries than a woman. So what. Wasn’t he allowed to care about his hygiene? He supposed that most men made due with a bar of soap and a bottle of talcum powder. Well, that was fine for them, but Rufus was a little more in tune with his body. Dry, flaky skin and limp, lifeless hair simply wasn’t his style.

A barely discernable noise beyond the fogged up glass door dispelled his thoughts. Sephiroth? he thought, unreasonably unnerved by the idea. Seconds later the door slid open and low and behold, a naked and ridiculously beautiful General stepped inside. Rufus’ neglected cock immediately sprang to attention, and a blush crept to his cheeks.

“Uh… what are you doing in here?” he asked stupidly, drinking in the view of Sephiroth’s godly figure. The General’s bare legs were long and sculpted, his slender hips were maddeningly flawless, his torso was pure rippled muscle, and the seductive curve of his neck and shoulders was enough in itself to drive Rufus to the point of frenzy.

Sephiroth naked was probably the most beautiful thing Mother Earth had to offer.

“What does it look like I’m doing?” the General replied. “I’m taking a shower.” He moved under the water, brushing against Rufus as he wet down his waterfall of white hair. Rufus froze completely from the contact of skin on skin; just touching the man made him dizzy. He caught a glimpse of Sephiroth’s backside through the water and gulped. The back was just as nice as the front. Even nicer, if that was possible.

Sephiroth ran his fingers through his hair, letting the water soak it through until it hung heavily in white streams down his back. He grabbed Rufus’ bottle of shampoo and squinted at the label. A smirk played across his lips. “Super volumizing… herbal enhanced… three-in-one split end repair…” he mumbled. His eyes met the blonde’s. “This is girl shampoo,” he bluntly announced, as if his conclusion would suddenly enlighten the VP to the terrible secret lurking behind such an innocent-looking bottle. Rufus’ blush grew. He fought the random urge to pounce on the General and ravage him.

“Take it or leave it,” he said. “It’s all I have.”

Sephiroth clicked his tongue with disdain, then poured a monstrous amount of the shampoo into his hand and proceeded to laboriously work it into his thick hair. The scent of herbs and citrus fragrance in the small chamber was so strong it was almost overpowering. Rufus took a deep breath and let it out, then squeezed under the narrow spray of water to wash off all the conditioner and soap that covered him head to toe. As he rinsed off, his back pressed up against Sephiroth’s chest… and a familiar, hardening length pressed against his ass.

“You really came in here just to take a shower?” he pried, turning slightly to peer up at Sephiroth through the onslaught of water. The General’s lips were still curved in a coy smirk.

“I never said that,” the taller man replied. A soapy hand slyly slid around to Rufus’ chest, pulling him closer. The blond moaned despite himself as Sephiroth leaned in and planted a lingering kiss on the nape of his neck, then slid his tongue down to the slope of his shoulder and sucked the skin. The soapy hand also slid downward and fondled his rock hard length, causing the super-soldier to snort with amusement. “I guess you’re happy to see me,” he whispered, then playfully nipped his neck, making Rufus’ skin prickle.

Rufus reached a hand back to feel Sephiroth’s steadily growing erection and smiled. “You’re the one to talk,” he softly retorted. “And you came earlier… unlike a certain unlucky bastard.” His breath left him with a hiss as Sephiroth growled and derisively bit down harder on his neck, working the flesh between his teeth. Another soap-slick hand hungrily caressed his chest and stomach, pulling him in even tighter. The hand on Rufus’ cock and the feel of Sephiroth’s rock-hard body crushed against him made his knees weak with desire – his clouded mind was swarming with ridiculously possessive, half-formed thoughts. Mine… mine… you’re all mine… A spoiled brat’s mantra. He rolled his head back, baring more of his neck; Sephiroth deftly took advantage of the opportunity, expertly nipping and sucking the sensitive skin.

“You call yourself unlucky?” Sephiroth growled briefly in Rufus’ ear before returning to the crook of his exposed neck, which he covered with his mouth again and sucked until it turned a shade of sore cherry red. “You’ve seduced two men into your clutches today…” he murmured. “That’s pretty lucky, if you ask me…”

“I suppose you’re right, as usual,” Rufus sighed. He was locked in a steamy embrace with the icon of everyone’s wet dreams… and he had fucked a Turk earlier who easily won the silver medal for orgasm-inspiring physical features. That was pretty damn lucky, he supposed. His thoughts dwindled away as Sephiroth easily turned him around in his arms and attacked his mouth, slipping his tongue past his parted lips. Rufus squirmed in the General’s embrace, eagerly returning the kiss, and slid his hands up to rest on his sculpted hips. No one’s skin had ever driven Rufus so fucking crazy before. He was nearing orgasm already, embarrassingly close, just from being pressed against Sephiroth’s naked, soap-slick body. He pulled the taller man closer and rubbed his aching member against the General’s while they crushed their lips together, bruising each other’s mouths. Sephiroth’s hands weren’t helping the VP’s self-control much either… one hand was tangled in his hair, cradling his head, and the other ran lightly down his spine, then slid over to his throbbing erection again and grasped it firmly.

“I-I’m gonna cum if you keep that up,” Rufus half-whined, haplessly bucking his hips. The General’s only response was a sinister chuckle and another lingering kiss. The hand around his cock tightened and began to rhythmically slide up and down, coaxing him closer to the edge. The VP moaned into the kiss and grasped the taller man’s shoulders for support, as he felt his knees would give way any second. His fingers twined into long, wet rivulets of hair and pulled them desperately while silver-lined waves of euphoria pulsed over his senses. It was too soon to cum, way too soon… but Sephiroth wasn’t giving him much of a choice. The hand moved faster up and down his shaft, meeting his grinding thrusts, expertly bringing him closer, closer…

And then it stopped. The hand left Rufus’ rock-hard erection, leaving him with nothing to fuck but air. His cock twitched, throbbing painfully. It was so hard there were goose bumps on the head. For a second Rufus couldn’t even comprehend the cruelty of what had just happened, but he slowly remembered the ominous words that were spoken back in the elevator.

Do you really think you deserve to cum after fucking Reno? No, I don’t think you’ve earned it yet… you still haven’t learned your lesson on breaking my heart.

“It’s not going to be that easy,” Sephiroth said softly, lips still touching his. He calmly withdrew from Rufus, pulling away from his snare-like embrace. Childish, frustrated tears welled up in the VP’s eyes. He tried to grab his hard cock and finish the job (which would have taken about two seconds) but Sephiroth’s strong hand grabbed his wrist, twisting it painfully. “No,” he snapped, like a command given to a dog. “Absolutely not. I’ll break your wrist if you try.”

A sob escaped Rufus’ lips. This was too much. This torture was even worse than physical abuse.

“Now let me finish showering,” Sephiroth growled. “I want to fuck your brains out, but not in here…” Rufus sobbed again, overcome with self-pity. He looked up into the General’s eyes, searching for a scrap of sympathy, but of course he found none. “Get out,” the taller man prodded, emphasizing the command with a not-so-gentle shove toward the glass door. “Before the water gets cold.”

As if on queue, the shower head sputtered loudly and began to spout a stream of icy-cold water. Cursing loudly, he quickly found his energy and urgently scrambled past the scowling soldier to escape the freezing onslaught.

“Perfect timing,” Sephiroth snarled, casting Rufus a malicious glare. By the time the VP had closed the glass door behind him, the cold water had doused him so thoroughly that his painful arousal had died down to a dull throb.

What a fucking prick, he morbidly pondered as he grabbed a towel from the rack and dried himself off. His whole body ached with stifled desire. However, he forced himself to look on the bright side. Sure, his day had been hectic – finding his secretary murdered by none other than the man behind that shower door – but overall, it had been like a vacation in comparison to his usual luck as of late. No severe injuries, no date rape, no horrendous twists to the morbid storyline of his life. It was as if Sephiroth had simply forgotten he was insane. Why? When? Was he fucking schizophrenic? If so, Rufus just hoped that the ‘good’ Sephiroth would stick around for the night.

After toweling off the VP took some body lotion and rubbed it into his skin, frequently glancing over to the glass door that still enclosed a freezing, soapy General. Apparently the man wasn’t too ruffled by extreme temperatures. Although he was planning on pouncing on Sephiroth like a bitch in heat as soon as he stepped out, Rufus suddenly decided that waiting for the soldier to emerge from the icy chamber was about as unnerving as hanging around a bomb about to explode, so he quickly threw the towel around his waist and bent down to gather his pile of clothes. He paused when he saw Sephiroth’s slacks draped carelessly over the mound. For a second he felt a strong impulse to try them on and strut around before the full-length mirror, but instead he just picked them up by the waistband and neatly folded them in half. As he was deciding where to put them, a bulge in one of the pockets caught his eye. It wasn’t a wallet… it was rounder and more solid. For some reason the mysterious object peaked his curiosity, as if the enigmatic General might carry around much more interesting things than normal people. Immortality? World peace? He glanced back at the shower door: still closed.

What harm could it possibly do? he justified, keeping his eyes locked on the shower. It’s my house. I can do whatever I want.

Before he could talk himself out of it, he reached down in the pocket and pulled the object out. He turned it around in his hand. It was a small bottle, a medicine vial of some sort… brown glass with a plain white label. He squinted his eyes to read the fine print. Chlorpromazine… what’s that? he wondered. Then he saw it – the main ingredient. Morphine?! He stifled a gasp. The fucker was on drugs! A split second later he heard the water turn off in the shower, so he shoved the vial back in the pocket, threw the pants on the floor, then grabbed his shit and scurried out of the bathroom.

Once in the sanctity of his bedroom, he let out the gasp he had been stifling and plopped down on the bed. Sephiroth was on smack! How long had this been going on? He tried to think back on the day’s events, gaging how fucked up the General had appeared to be earlier. He certainly didn’t look sedated when he caught me screwing Reno in the office, he considered. Then the pieces began to slide together. He stepped into the elevator on Hojo’s floor! Maybe he got the drugs from the lab… he was all kinds of placid until I succeeded in pissing him off. Morphine. It easily explained why the General had been so unusually kind (well, maybe ‘kind’ was an exaggeration) to him this evening, although it wasn’t exactly the conclusion he was hoping to reach. He had honestly wanted to believe that Sephiroth’s compassion was genuine. That maybe he really liked him.

Well… it could still be true, couldn’t it? he justified. He played with the possibility for a minute – the chance that Sephiroth actually cared for him. That his unusual behavior was something more than the warm, fuzzy haze of morphine euphoria. He laughed dryly, the sound surprisingly harsh to his own ears. Who am I fooling? he mused. The real Sephiroth – the sober Sephiroth – had murdered his secretary in cold blood. The man toweling off in his bathroom was just a passing dream, a dazed, synthetic double.

Oh, well. At least he wasn’t getting hacked to bits or backhanded in the jaw at the moment. As much as the facts bothered him, he supposed he was lucky. After screwing Reno, morphine might actually be the only thing keeping him from meeting his secretary’s fate.

His thoughts dispelled when a flicker of shadow fell briefly across the far wall. He turned to find Sephiroth leaning – no, looming - in the doorway, clad in only a towel. The General was a stealthy motherfucker, even when he wasn’t trying to be.

“That was fucking miserable,” he growled, brushing a damp, heavy lock of white hair out of his piercing, frigid eyes. The ethereal, arctic hue of his irises conveyed such an intense feeling of cold that it raised goose flesh on Rufus’ arms. For a weightless second, the intensity of those eyes looked… simply… alien. But that was just the Mako.

Wasn’t it?

“Well, fuck the small talk,” Sephiroth finally stated. A faint smirk played across his lips and the cold eyes narrowed. “I came over here to fuck you… and if you have any objections, I recommend you keep them to yourself,” he sneered. With that same silent fluidity, he advanced toward the bed and pinned the younger man under him, covering the VP’s soft, manicured hands with his own. A wet cascade of silver hair fell around them like a curtain, leaving Rufus with nothing to look at other than the gorgeous man above him - strong, wiry arms, paralyzing eyes, and a tight, rippled abdomen. I AM a lucky fucker… the VP briefly realized. Sephiroth bent down, still smirking, and covered his mouth with his cool lips, devouring him, plunging in his tongue.

Cold melted away to heat within seconds. Rufus found himself writhing in the General’s grip, twisting his hands under the steely fingers that held them down. Whatever torture Sephiroth had planned, it was working so far. Just the lips pressed against his own and the feel of that lithe, idyllic body touching his was torture. Torture because he wanted more – to ravage him, take him, take it all – and the simple act of pinning down his wrists limited his affections to pathetic squirming. Sephiroth’s lips trailed down to his jawline, nipping the flesh, then further to his neck. He was growing harder under the layers of towel.

“You taste like a fucking bouquet,” the General growled briefly in his ear, nipping his earlobe. Rufus’ only response was a groan and another attempt to squirm out of the powerful grip pinning his wrists. This made the taller man snort cynically and bite down hard on his neck, sending a jolt of pain-pleasure down his spine. “Why do you even bother struggling?” he whispered. “It just makes me want to hurt you more…”

“Because…” Rufus managed to huff, delirious with lust, “I sorely want to take you.” He bit as lip as soon as he said it, sorely wishing he had just held his tongue.

Sephiroth paused and smiled bitterly, a frigid curve of his lips. The Mako eyes brightened dangerously. “No one takes me… not even the spoiled president’s son,” he snarled. Rufus could have sworn he even heard rage in the words. “If you think you’re some kind of exception, you’re even stupider than I thought.” In one smooth motion, the General pinned his wrists with one hand and used the other to sharply cuff his jaw, snapping his head to the side. Cartoon-bright stars swam across his vision. “Understand?” his captor sneered.

“I’m sorry…” Rufus murmured, dazed from the slap. He tasted blood. So much for NOT getting backhanded in the jaw, he mused grimly. Even drugged, Sephiroth could still manage to be a prick. Unfortunately, Rufus’ tolerance for pain was no higher despite the frequent abuse he had suffered lately – the slap hurt just as bad as any had in the past.

Sephiroth’s steel–strong hand moved down to the towel wrapped around the VP’s waist and yanked it loose. Calloused fingers ran lightly up his twitching shaft, then down to hungrily caress the inside of his thigh. Rufus groaned despite himself and raised his hips, melting into the touch. Those narcotic lips covered his mouth again and the slick tongue slipped between his lips, tasting the blood, while the hand crawled over the sensitive skin of his inner thigh, pinching the flesh harshly between his thumb and forefinger. The towel slid lazily off Sephiroth’s hips and fell to the floor. Rufus moaned into the General’s mouth when he felt the tip of that big cock press possessively into his groin. He also felt the lips covering his twist into a smirk.

“You’re going to understand…” Sephiroth whispered, “who’s taking who…” The hand slid beneath the small of his back and lifted his hips off the bed. All Rufus could focus on was those Mako eyes as the soldier ground against him again, crushing him. He winced as the tip of his cock threatened to slide inside him, hurting him just from the pressure. “The question is… how will I take you?” he mused. The hand inched down to his ass and the tip of his cock was replaced by a finger, which sharply forced its way in. Tears sprang out of Rufus’ eyes upon the intrusion… Sephiroth’s fingers were not small or soft by any means. The General’s grin was nauseatingly malicious as he forced his finger in all the way, then slid it out slightly only to relentlessly squeeze another in. He wasn’t using any lube and he just didn’t seem to give a shit. In fact, Rufus was fairly convinced that the tears now running down his face were only making his captor more aroused.

“You think you’re some kind of big shot because you’re a ShinRa?” Sephiroth suddenly asked him in that same cold, quiet voice. Baffled, Rufus assumed it was a rhetorical question so he didn’t respond. Instead he gasped when the two fingers thrust brutally into him again, up to the knuckles. And again. The pain was exquisite. “You think you’re fucking superior?” the General prodded. When Rufus shook his head, a third finger jammed inside him, wrenching a sob from his choked-up throat. Sephiroth didn’t even slow down the brutal rhythm he had acquired. Through the tears, the VP noticed that the grin was gone from the soldier’s face, replaced by a mask of grim severity. Fear charged like a pulse of high voltage through his senses. What the hell is he getting at? he wondered, half-hysterical.

Then he understood. The fear intensified.

“When I saw you fucking Reno today… it looked like you were playing god,” Sephiroth reminisced, confirming his fears. His fingers never lost a beat, and the hand holding down his wrists had tightened painfully, like a vice grip. He could kill me in a split second, Rufus realized. The strength in those hands. “Like playing god…” the General repeated, obvious disgust in his tone. The word ‘god’ sounded strangely acidic on such angelic lips.

“I’m sorry,” Rufus gasped breathlessly, desperately. Rather than dulling over time, the pain from those three fingers seemed just as horrible, if not worse, with every thrust.

“Oh, you’re sorry?” Sephiroth mocked. His eyes, which had never left Rufus’, narrowed menacingly. “No, you’re not fucking sorry,” he snarled. He quickened his thrusts, jabbing deeper, ignoring the way the VP’s entire body tensed and shivered from the pain. Pain, and a vague tinge of pleasure as they brushed against his prostate.

“You’re a conceited fucking prick,” Sephiroth hissed. Those merciless eyes seemed to burn Rufus’ soul through his tears. He felt another finger slide in. What, does that make it four?!? he thought hysterically. There was more pain, so much fucking pain the room started rocking side to side, like a cradle. “You’re nothing, don’t you get it?” Sephiroth’s voice had raised only slightly but it sounded like he was shouting compared to the silent tone he had been using.

Rufus heard himself speaking the words ‘I’m sorry’ over and over again, like some kind of chant. As if it was doing any good. There were four fingers fucking him, four fingers. He felt faint.

“And I will fucking… kill you… if you EVER fuck someone behind my back again, do you understand?” Maybe Sephiroth was shouting now… Rufus was too delirious with pain, lust and gut-churning fear to know for sure.

“I understand…” he choked. “I’m sorry… I understand…”

“I will split you in half. I will fucking murder you. If I wasn’t on fucking sedatives, I’d probably kill you right now.”

“I understand… I’m sorry…”

Sephiroth laughed, a harsh, bitter sound. “No, you don’t understand,” he continued. “I am fucking insane, and if you really understood, you never would have fucked Reno in the first place. If you really understood, you would never have taken me here the night we met.” The fingers inside Rufus had worked their way in past the knuckles, impaling him, forcing more hot tears out of his eyes. “You will never understand. But it’s too late to turn back now, isn’t it? You swaggered into my fucking life, and now I’m not letting you walk back out. Frankly, I don’t care what the fuck you think. You’re mine, and there’s nothing you can do about it.” He laughed again. “And this whole time you thought I came over here tonight just to kiss and make up… what a fucking idiot.”

Sephiroth had a point. What was I thinking? Rufus wondered. I must really be an idiot to underestimate him. The General was completely insane, off the deep end, and had simply flattered his way all the way back up to his penthouse apartment, just like he had done before. Except now… well, now he was pissed.

Opiates be damned.

“So,” Sephiroth said, “I hope that now, at least you understand my intentions…” The grin had crept back on his face, but there was nothing but malice behind it. “And maybe, you are beginning to comprehend… that my intentions are never altruistic.”

Rufus managed to nod. It was taking all his willpower not to scream.

* * *

The warehouse hadn’t changed much over the years. It had always been littered with beer cans, rat shit and used syringes, and so it was when Reno walked in and turned on the flickering fluorescent lights. His combat boots crunched under broken glass and dirty rigs as he paced around the large, barren room. A wave of bittersweet nostalgia passed over him. A lot had happened in this old warehouse… a few murders, a lot of drug deals, plenty of drunken brawls. Even the mattresses and tables were still here, covered in a layer of dust.

The warehouse used to be his gang’s hideout. In fact, Reno used to sleep here when his cash for motels ran out. He had gotten his first tattoo here, that ugly stick-and-poke whiskey bottle that still clung defiantly to his left shoulder. Bittersweet memories. Cocaine, dope, forty-ouncers. If it weren’t for ShinRa, he’d probably still be sleeping here. There was a depressing thought.

Reno pulled his cell phone out of his tight jean pocket and squinted at the numbers. One-forty-six, it said. So he was early. After calling Chops he had gone back to his apartment, changed into his street clothes, loaded up with weapons, and drank a few shots of liquor to loosen up. The warehouse, located in a sector devoted almost entirely to garbage and industrial wasteland, wasn’t a bad walk from his motel. He must have remembered it as being further away, because his gang wasn’t due to meet him for another fifteen minutes. Oh, well. The night would pick up speed soon enough.

He sauntered over an ancient, torn-up couch resting in the corner, slung off his pack and sat down. A puff of noxious dust floated up around him, making him sneeze. Shit, I practically need the gas mask in here, he mused, wiping his watering eyes with the backs of his hands. Noxious. Maybe he had gotten soft working for ShinRa… another depressing thought. Lacking anything better to do, he pulled his pistol out of his waistband and examined it. It was a heavy 9mm, with a silencer attached to the barrel. Probably overkill, but you never knew. He wouldn’t need to use it on Rufus, but what if Sephiroth was there? The thought gave him a chill. Fat chance, he knew, but it was always better to play it safe. If the General was there, he certainly wasn’t going to be expecting any more company. Without that fucking sword in his hands, even the Great Sephiroth was helpless against a bullet.

Reno sighed and leaned back in the couch, hefting his gun in his hands. If Rufus was the only one there, the gun would never leave the waist of his jeans. It would only take a tap of his finger to knock that pussy-boy out, then it would be a piece of cake wrecking his flat and robbing him blind. The loser would never know what hit him.

But… if Sephiroth was there? He laughed dryly. If Sephiroth was there, it would just take a lot longer to clean up all the blood.

*AUTHOR'S NOTE* Uh... sorry this chapter took so long... again. I kinda suck at deadlines. Anyways, hope you enjoyed the lack of romance. If you thought ten was too mushy, I hope I made up for it in this chapter. Or maybe I just confused everyone. What do YOU think? Write a review. Please?