Corpse in the Cupboard
folder
Final Fantasy VIII › Crossovers
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
26
Views:
801
Reviews:
0
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Final Fantasy VIII › Crossovers
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
26
Views:
801
Reviews:
0
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own any of the characters in this fiction. They remain the property of the makers of Final Fantasy VIII and VII. I do this for fun and entainment, not profit.
Chapter 11
***** CHAPTER 11 *****
The bar Vincent ended up in was dark and cold and it matched his mood perfectly. Every person in the place seemed to have the common goal of drinking themselves into oblivion and Vincent was thankfully ignored as he perched on a bar stool and stared at the wall. The two bottles of scotch he’d consumed over the last hour sat empty before him as he contemplated whether to order another or just leave and find a cozy spot in a nearby alley to pass out in.
Chaos was silent within him, having given up trying to incite his temper. The demon had wanted him to be angry, to take revenge for the pain that Laguna had caused him. The truth was, he wasn’t angry, not even slightly. He was numb, frozen solid from his head to his feet. What the hell was wrong with him? Why did the ones he fell in love with always find someone else to be with? Why was he never good enough? Fuck, he was just so sick and tired of being the loser.
He leaned his head back and closed his eyes, only to have images of Laguna flood his mind. Those beautiful blue eyes staring into his, the sound of his voice, the touch of his hands and the taste of his kiss. He opened his eyes again to escape the memories. Well, since closing his eyes didn’t seem the best option right now, it looked like another bottle was needed. He lazily motioned for another and when it arrived he stood up from the bar stool and headed for an empty booth in the back corner, falling into the seat without his usual grace. He poured himself another shot, getting more on the table than in the glass and gulped it down. As he lifted the bottle to pour another one, warm hands wrapped around his, slipping the bottle away from him.
“What the…,” he mumbled, turning his head to see who the hell had taken his scotch away.
“Let me do it. I hate to see good scotch go to waste,” a voice replied flatly. Vincent’s eyes slowly focused. Dark hair. Laguna? No, not Laguna. Hair’s too short. Same eyes though. Beautiful blue. One eyebrow above those beautiful eyes rose up, as the stranger stood there, returning his stare and it suddenly dawned on Vincent that he was staring like an idiot.
“If you insist,” he grumbled, turning his head in the opposite direction to hide his embarrassment. The stranger sat down and he heard him pour two shots, before one appeared before him. Vincent drank the shot and grimaced. The scotch had a bitter aftertaste. Funny, the last two bottles didn’t taste like that, he mused to himself as he found his eyes being drawn back to the man beside him. This guy was young, maybe early twenties, with a deadly serious expression that didn’t match his pretty face. A long scar between his eyes caught Vincent’s attention, tugging at his memory. Someone had mentioned something to him about a man with a scar. What was it again? He just couldn’t get his mind to focus. Those blue eyes turned towards him and Vincent noticed one side of his lips curve up in an almost smile. The guy turned away and continued pouring himself shots and drinking them down, unconcerned with the fact that Vincent had finished his drink and was staring at him again.
“If you’re going to drink my scotch, you could at least tell me your name,” Vincent stated, not really expecting an answer as he turned away and glanced around the bar. His vision began to blur slightly and he rubbed his hand across his eyes. He jumped when he felt a warm hand touch his face and turn it gently back around.
“No names,” the stranger whispered, as he leant forward and kissed the startled gunman. Vincent froze. What the hell? His inaction didn’t seem to bother the other man and he continued nibbling on his lips gently as his hands explored the gunman’s chest. Vincent’s alcohol drenched mind slipped into neutral and something else took over as he began to return the kiss, sliding his hand around the other mans waist and pulling him over to straddle his lap. The young man deepened the kiss, sucking on his tongue and making Vincent growl before thrusting his hips forward in an obvious invitation. Vincent almost voiced his disappointment when the stranger broke the kiss and looked at him intently.
“Follow me,” he whispered, slowly extracting himself from the gunman’s lap and standing up. Vincent slowly stood and let him lead him out of the bar and across the road to a block of units. As they climbed the stairs, Vincent began to doubt the sanity of his actions. What was he doing? He couldn’t just sleep with a complete stranger. He stumbled up the stairs and found himself being held up by the young man who was now smiling at him in a way that made him feel extremely uncomfortable.
“Better get you inside quick,” the man muttered, dragging Vincent in a door and dropping him on a bed. Vincent’s head was spinning uncontrollably now and he closed his eyes, trying to make it stop. He felt someone climb onto the bed and opened his eyes to find blue eyes peering into his. Beautiful blue eyes…….Laguna’s blue eyes.
“Laguna?” he whispered. The only answer he received was the press of lips on his and a warm body grinding against him. He closed his eyes and let his passion for the man he loved overtake him. The lips left his and started kissing his jaw, moving down his throat to his collarbone, sucking and biting gently. Vincent breathed in deeply and smelt the familiar scent of vanilla that always clung to Laguna and it pushed all other thoughts from his spinning mind. He was home in the arms of the man he loved. His Laguna. Nothing else mattered.
The bar Vincent ended up in was dark and cold and it matched his mood perfectly. Every person in the place seemed to have the common goal of drinking themselves into oblivion and Vincent was thankfully ignored as he perched on a bar stool and stared at the wall. The two bottles of scotch he’d consumed over the last hour sat empty before him as he contemplated whether to order another or just leave and find a cozy spot in a nearby alley to pass out in.
Chaos was silent within him, having given up trying to incite his temper. The demon had wanted him to be angry, to take revenge for the pain that Laguna had caused him. The truth was, he wasn’t angry, not even slightly. He was numb, frozen solid from his head to his feet. What the hell was wrong with him? Why did the ones he fell in love with always find someone else to be with? Why was he never good enough? Fuck, he was just so sick and tired of being the loser.
He leaned his head back and closed his eyes, only to have images of Laguna flood his mind. Those beautiful blue eyes staring into his, the sound of his voice, the touch of his hands and the taste of his kiss. He opened his eyes again to escape the memories. Well, since closing his eyes didn’t seem the best option right now, it looked like another bottle was needed. He lazily motioned for another and when it arrived he stood up from the bar stool and headed for an empty booth in the back corner, falling into the seat without his usual grace. He poured himself another shot, getting more on the table than in the glass and gulped it down. As he lifted the bottle to pour another one, warm hands wrapped around his, slipping the bottle away from him.
“What the…,” he mumbled, turning his head to see who the hell had taken his scotch away.
“Let me do it. I hate to see good scotch go to waste,” a voice replied flatly. Vincent’s eyes slowly focused. Dark hair. Laguna? No, not Laguna. Hair’s too short. Same eyes though. Beautiful blue. One eyebrow above those beautiful eyes rose up, as the stranger stood there, returning his stare and it suddenly dawned on Vincent that he was staring like an idiot.
“If you insist,” he grumbled, turning his head in the opposite direction to hide his embarrassment. The stranger sat down and he heard him pour two shots, before one appeared before him. Vincent drank the shot and grimaced. The scotch had a bitter aftertaste. Funny, the last two bottles didn’t taste like that, he mused to himself as he found his eyes being drawn back to the man beside him. This guy was young, maybe early twenties, with a deadly serious expression that didn’t match his pretty face. A long scar between his eyes caught Vincent’s attention, tugging at his memory. Someone had mentioned something to him about a man with a scar. What was it again? He just couldn’t get his mind to focus. Those blue eyes turned towards him and Vincent noticed one side of his lips curve up in an almost smile. The guy turned away and continued pouring himself shots and drinking them down, unconcerned with the fact that Vincent had finished his drink and was staring at him again.
“If you’re going to drink my scotch, you could at least tell me your name,” Vincent stated, not really expecting an answer as he turned away and glanced around the bar. His vision began to blur slightly and he rubbed his hand across his eyes. He jumped when he felt a warm hand touch his face and turn it gently back around.
“No names,” the stranger whispered, as he leant forward and kissed the startled gunman. Vincent froze. What the hell? His inaction didn’t seem to bother the other man and he continued nibbling on his lips gently as his hands explored the gunman’s chest. Vincent’s alcohol drenched mind slipped into neutral and something else took over as he began to return the kiss, sliding his hand around the other mans waist and pulling him over to straddle his lap. The young man deepened the kiss, sucking on his tongue and making Vincent growl before thrusting his hips forward in an obvious invitation. Vincent almost voiced his disappointment when the stranger broke the kiss and looked at him intently.
“Follow me,” he whispered, slowly extracting himself from the gunman’s lap and standing up. Vincent slowly stood and let him lead him out of the bar and across the road to a block of units. As they climbed the stairs, Vincent began to doubt the sanity of his actions. What was he doing? He couldn’t just sleep with a complete stranger. He stumbled up the stairs and found himself being held up by the young man who was now smiling at him in a way that made him feel extremely uncomfortable.
“Better get you inside quick,” the man muttered, dragging Vincent in a door and dropping him on a bed. Vincent’s head was spinning uncontrollably now and he closed his eyes, trying to make it stop. He felt someone climb onto the bed and opened his eyes to find blue eyes peering into his. Beautiful blue eyes…….Laguna’s blue eyes.
“Laguna?” he whispered. The only answer he received was the press of lips on his and a warm body grinding against him. He closed his eyes and let his passion for the man he loved overtake him. The lips left his and started kissing his jaw, moving down his throat to his collarbone, sucking and biting gently. Vincent breathed in deeply and smelt the familiar scent of vanilla that always clung to Laguna and it pushed all other thoughts from his spinning mind. He was home in the arms of the man he loved. His Laguna. Nothing else mattered.