At least he's hot

Chapter twelve: revenge

*WARNINGS* Seriously fucked up violence in this chapter. Seriously. Fucked. Up.


Sephiroth’s mercy, if that’s what you wanted to call it, had extended to grabbing a bottle of lube out of Rufus’ nightstand. The VP, whose hands were now lashed behind his back with a belt, couldn’t do much but groan in cautious relief as the General poured a copious amount of the shit into his hand, then rubbed it onto his stiff cock. The blonde’s jaw throbbed from another recent backhand, and every inch of his body felt like it was on fire – a fierce blend of pain and lust. He was still having a hard time believing this was actually happening… he had been thoroughly convinced that Sephiroth was going to be nice to him tonight. He bleakly wondered which the General was better at – deception or swordplay? It seemed like a pretty close tie.

When the soldier was done he tossed the lube on the floor and grabbed Rufus by the hips, roughly turning him on his back. That same cold, soulless smirk was on his lips as he slung the VP’s legs over his shoulders and positioned his cock, already raping him with his predatory eyes. “Don’t look so disappointed,” he sneered, letting a hand wander down the blonde’s thigh. “You should know by now not to expect any less from me…”

I’m allowed to dream, Rufus thought sardonically, gazing helplessly at the large cock positioned in between his legs. He futilely hoped it wouldn’t hurt as much as the hand had minutes earlier. Taking in a deep breath, he tried to ignore the fluttering in his stomach as Sephiroth leaned forward, placing one hand by his head, and pushed in.

Rufus’ breath escaped him with a sigh, half pleasure, half pain, nearly drowning out the General’s groan. Nothing felt better – or worse – than Sephiroth’s cock when it split him in that first, powerful thrust. His vision clouded over from the sensory overload, and all he could focus on was a shadowed outline of the lean, muscular body straining over his, hard and polished like marble. When the General’s cock had finally buried itself to the hilt inside him, he felt so full he thought his brain might explode. It was like being fucked by insanity, like the man’s twisted soul was also penetrating him.

“Fuck, you’re tight…” Sephiroth gasped. The silver haired man bit his lip and slowly pulled out, venomous eyes fixed on his own cock, and let the suspense hang in the air before he slammed possessively back in. Rufus shuddered involuntarily, reacting as much to the pain as to the words. In the past half hour, Sephiroth had hit him with more verbal abuse than he’d taken collectively in all his life. He felt as if his defenses had been stripped completely bare.

For the first time in his life, Rufus ShinRa felt inferior… in every sense of the word. Physically inferior, mentally inferior, morally inferior. Perhaps this is what it’s like to be broken, he realized.

Sephiroth growled viciously and quickened his thrusts, digging his fingernails into the VP’s thigh hard enough to draw blood. Pain, pleasure, pain, pleasure… Rufus’ senses were infused with a horrible rhythm – pain so sharp it was nearly unbearable, accompanied by a wave of pleasure so intense he found himself grinding his hips to match the motion. Blushing with overwhelming shame, he feebly tried to hide his face by turning his head to the side – little good it did, but anything to avoid the compassionless scrutiny of Sephiroth’s gaze. He winced as the fingernails locked in his flesh dragged up the side of his thigh, amplifying the surge of adrenaline already rushing through his veins.

A noxious grin twisted the General’s lips, turning Rufus’ stomach even in the peripherals of his vision. He felt those strong hands slide his legs down from their position on his shoulders to rest on his carved hips. The cock inside him never lost a beat and even seemed to penetrate him deeper. “You’re lucky you’re such a good fuck…” Sephiroth snarled, his voice slightly softened with lust. He grasped Rufus by the nape of his neck and pulled him into a sitting position, so the blonde’s flushed, tear-streaked face was inches from his. “Because otherwise… I’d get more pleasure from killing you…”

Rufus’ heart pounded in his chest. He felt unbearably vulnerable so close to those piercing eyes… and those words chilled him to the bone. Sephiroth pulled him closer, wrapping his powerful arms around his back, then attacked his mouth, harshly nipping his lower lip before literally fucking his mouth with his tongue. The blond subconsciously tightened his legs around his captor’s waist and desperately returned the kiss, so aroused he could barely stand it. Why did Sephiroth have to feel so good? If it was anyone else doing this to him, he’d probably just be outraged…. but for some reason, this silver haired psycho evoked the exact opposite in his senses. Lust, fear, and something resembling awe. Like a strange reverence. The man’s brain was just so complex, like an amped up computer infected with a fatal virus. A genius mind, tarnished by whatever monstrosities ShinRa had inflicted over the years.

The flawless body that went with the mind didn’t help much either. To sum it up, Sephiroth was like a god on one hell of a bad acid trip.

Rufus groaned listlessly as the General broke the kiss and glared intently into his eyes, as if searching for a sign of surrender. “How does it feel?” he whispered, emphasizing the question with an especially brutal, impaling thrust of his hips. When the VP’s response was nothing but a gasp, he tightened his grasp on the nape of his neck, pulling the blond hair so hard it threatened to rip right out of his skull.

“Good… It feels… really good…” Rufus finally sobbed, choking on his words.

“Now say my name…” the soldier softly commanded, easily holding up the VP’s small frame in his arms as he quickened his relentless pace.

“Sephiroth…” Rufus murmured hoarsely, the word sounding surprisingly erotic as he heard it spill from his own lips, almost like a confession. His legs clamped even tighter around his captor’s waist and he realized he was rocking his hips to meet the painful thrusts.

“Say it again… louder…” the General whispered, leaning in and hungrily nipping the abused skin of his neck.

“Ah… Sephiroth…” The cock inside him was hitting his spot hard now with every deep thrust, making his whole body warm with pure ecstasy. Silver hair tickled his chest as the soldier sucked and bit his way down to the crook of his shoulder. “Sephiroth…” he repeated, savoring the way the name felt on his lips.

“Now say you’re mine,” Sephiroth snarled. The strong arms pulled Rufus closer, crushing him in the embrace.

“I’m yours… all yours…” the VP gasped, writhing his hips, and as soon as he said it, he knew it was true. He then realized that the General wasn’t even thrusting into him any more and was practically letting him keep the rhythm on his own, which he was doing with complete abandon.

“That’s right… mine and no one else’s…” Sephiroth sighed, and eagerly pulled him in for another fierce kiss. Rufus melted in to the kiss, moaning into his captor’s mouth, and let the words sink in. Mine and no one else’s… He realized that somewhere deep inside him, this was just what he had wanted to hear.

It was like something buried in his soul had been just waiting to be taken, longing for this surrender, and Sephiroth had broken through and taken it. Rufus felt it happening as surely as he felt the physical ecstasy pulsing through his body… like the walls around his soul were crumbling. It was as frightening as it was exhilarating – like falling.

He barely noticed as Sephiroth laid him back down on the bed and covered his mouth again, thrusting as brutally with his tongue as with his hips. Rufus met each thrust eagerly, wanting the General even deeper inside him, savoring the euphoric feel of that big cock as it hit his prostate. He groaned loudly as a strong hand wrapped around his tortured shaft and began to slide up and down, bringing him even nearer to the edge.

“Tell me how much you want me…” Sephiroth whispered, lips still touching his. His Mako eyes were burning up with lust and his cheeks were flushed, a pretty pink on his pale skin.

“I want you… more than I’ve ever wanted anyone…” Rufus gasped breathlessly, bucking desperately into the hand clenched around his cock. Oh, he was so close… “Ah, Sephiroth… Oh my god…” White light as he finally climaxed, bursting into Sephiroth’s hand, his whole body melting into a flood of crippling ecstasy. He heard the General groan, saw him bite his swollen bottom lip, and seconds later he felt him cum hard, slamming deep inside him as he spilled his seed with a shudder. Time was weightless, filled with the heavenly buzz of orgasm and the feel of Sephiroth on top of him, inside of him, languidly kissing his lips, slowly rocking his hips until he was drained. The moment drifted by like a dream, punctuated only by the sound of their breathing and the beat of their hearts.

Sephiroth pulled out slowly, reluctantly, then collapsed down next to him, his damp, white hair covering the pillows around his head. He grasped Rufus’ shoulder and rolled him onto his side, then silently unbuckled the belt around his wrists. Rufus groaned with appreciation; he examined his forearms as soon as they were free and wasn’t at all surprised to find the skin red and chafed. He rubbed them gingerly then reached over to grab the pack of menthols on his nightstand. “Want a smoke?” he meekly asked Sephiroth, pulling one out and lighting it.

“Mm… why not…” the General mumbled. He pulled one from the pack, placed it between his lips, and let Rufus light it for him. They were silent as they smoked, both savoring the mingled buzz of afterglow and nicotine.

Finally Sephiroth turned his head and gazed over at Rufus, who was still breathing heavily, eyes half-closed. “Did you enjoy yourself?” he asked in a puff of blue-grey smoke.

Rufus smiled wryly. “Wasn’t it obvious?” he sighed, wincing as a lump of hot ash fell on his chest. “I saw white light and shit… like I was dying, or being born, I don’t know…” He watched a satisfied half-smirk curve the soldier’s lips. “But what about you?” the VP prodded, twisting a stray lock of soft, silver hair around his fingers. “Did you enjoy torturing me senseless?”

The coy smirk widened slightly and the green eyes glinted. “Wasn’t it obvious?” he dryly echoed.

* * *

“So, does everyone understand the plan?” Reno asked, sizing up the three thugs before him. A mumbled ‘yes, boss,’ greeted his ears. “Good,” he sighed. “Because if we fuck this up, we’re all gonna be sittin in the gas chamber.” The men shifted uncomfortably on their feet; a bottle of whiskey passed between their gloved hands. There was Chops - a six-foot five, muscle-bound dread-head with a brain the size of a peanut; Ralph - a short, wiry punk covered head-to-toe in ink and piercings; and Red - a quiet, creepy dude who had lost his sense of right and wrong somewhere in the murky depths of the slums. All three were killers, all three were thieves, and all three of them needed money bad, which was ninety-percent of the reason why they had agreed to this stunt.

The stunt was simple and to-the-point: rob Rufus ShinRa blind. The plan: bribe the sleazy building security into turning off the cameras and giving up the keys, disguise their faces and voices with army-issue gas masks, enter the apartment, then… well… the rest was rather self-explanatory. They would hold the VP at gunpoint, force him to unlock whatever safes he had stashed, then knock him out once they were done. It wasn’t their first operation of this kind… hell, no. Before Reno had become a Turk, they had all worked together, robbing the snotty plate dwellers and selling the hot merchandise on the black market. They made an efficient yet somewhat dysfunctional team, and the one and only time they had slipped, it had cost Reno his freedom. One fateful night they had hacked their way into ShinRa Headquarters with the lofty goal of acquiring some rare summon materia, and had almost gotten away with it… but ‘almost’ was the key word. After getting beaten to a pulp by a massive security robot, Reno was singled out as the leader of the operation and tossed in the slammer. He was facing a fat sentence until Tseng had made a deal with him - work for ShinRa or rot in prison.

He hadn’t had much of a choice… working for the enemy was better than spending the rest of his days wasting away in a putrid cell. And now, as a result, his gang owed him big time.

“Gimme a shot,” Reno mumbled. He snatched the bottle from Ralph and finished off the contents, then flung it over his shoulder. “Alright, let’s head out,” he sighed. “If all goes well, we should be back here in an hour, counting up our loot.”

The thugs all mumbled their consent and followed Reno out of the warehouse. They moved silently through the night as a single entity - a serpentine, spike-and-dreadlock shadow, crowbars and knives bristling like spines.

* * *

Sephiroth had been in the bathroom for at least ten minutes, and it didn’t take a genius to guess what he was doing in there. As Rufus mixed up a gin and tonic for himself, he tried to visualize the General shooting up - tightening the belt around his arm with his teeth and positioning the needle. Weird. It just seemed so… out of character. He brought the drink back into the bedroom and took a sizeable gulp before setting it on the nightstand. Before getting back under the covers, he found a pair of boxers and slipped them on. For some reason he had a thing about sleeping naked. It was like wearing pants with no underwear… some people did it, some simply did not.

Sephiroth appeared in the doorway moments later, obviously high as a kite. His eyes were half-closed, he was swaying slightly, and a small red pinprick of blood marked his lily-white arm like an X on a treasure map. “I’m tired…” he mumbled listlessly, and plodded dizzily to the bed. At least he put on his boxers, Rufus thought absently, watching the General grope at the covers and pull them back before literally falling onto the bed. “Shit,” he slurred.

“How’s the morphine?” Rufus sourly inquired, somewhat jealous of the obvious euphoria his lover was wallowing in.

“It’s good…” Sephiroth sleepily replied, then raised an eyebrow in sluggish confusion. “What, did you go through my shit?” he murmured.

“Well, it’s not difficult to tell you’re high,” Rufus dryly responded. “You even have tracks.”

Sephiroth glanced down absently at the small dot of blood on his arm, then shrugged. “I haven’t slept for a week,” he said. “I took it because I had to.” He peered at Rufus with distant, doped-up eyes. “You don’t understand… I’ve had a lot of shit weighing on my mind lately.”

“Like what?” Rufus pried. He took another sip of his drink, keeping his eyes locked on the sedated soldier lying next to him. God, the man was fucking beautiful.

Sephiroth seemed to hesitate, doubtfully scanning Rufus’ expression. “You know Hojo?” he finally asked, saying the name with quiet hatred.

“Yeah, sort of,” Rufus said. “The guy’s a creep.”

“Well, I have an issue with him,” the General sighed. “A big fucking issue. I went to your office today because I was thinking about killing him… I was hoping you would help me calm down, but obviously that’s not what happened.”

“Why do you want to kill him?” Rufus quickly asked, diverting the conversation away from Reno and the murdered secretary. “What did he do?”

Sephiroth’s hazy eyes seemed to darken for a second. “I don’t know,” he confessed quietly. “And that’s the problem. Rufus, haven’t you ever wondered why my hair is white?”

“Uh…” Rufus stammered. “I just figured you dyed it, or something.” That wasn’t really the truth… he had pondered the unnatural color of the soldier’s hair. Even his eyelashes and his pubes were white - definitely not the work of a dye job, no matter how professional.

“Come on,” Sephiroth mumbled. “You know it’s not dyed. Who in their right mind would dye their hair white? There’s other shit, too. Shit I don’t want to talk about. But the point is, I think Hojo did something to me. An experiment of some kind, I really don’t know… but I think he made me this way. I’ve asked him about it, of course… but he won’t tell me anything. It’s like he has some horrible secret he doesn’t want me to find out. Naturally, I’m pissed. I can’t stop thinking about it…”

“Huh…” Rufus murmured. He finished off his drink. “So you can’t remember whether or not you were in an experiment?”

“I don’t remember anything before age twelve,” Sephiroth said. “Nothing. I simply… woke up, lying on an examining table. And Hojo’s the first person I remember seeing. I’m telling you, the asshole screwed with me somehow, like one of his fucking lab rats. He told me I hit my head, a fucking lame excuse, but I’m not stupid. I know he’s lying. And I hate him for it.”

“Damn,” Rufus whispered. “That’s really fucked up.”

Sephiroth sighed wearily. “Yeah, no shit,” he said. “So that’s why I took the fucking morphine. I’m homicidal, plain and simple.” He sighed again and shifted under the covers, the waterfall of eerie white hair spread out around him. “I may be insane… but I’m not a goddamned junkie…” he murmured, eyes drifting shut.

“I didn’t say you were,” Rufus muttered defensively. He settled his head on the pillow, waiting for the General’s response, but was met instead by a soft snore. No way, he thought, and looked closer at the man’s serene features. Huh. Strange. There was definitely no denying it - Sephiroth was out, just like that.

Well, screw it, he mused, turning off the light. It was late, he was tired, and the man he idolized was asleep in his bed. So, all things aside, the night had a happy ending after all…

* * *

It wasn’t difficult at all to get up to Rufus’ apartment… in fact, Reno was fairly convinced that the building’s security guards were even sleazier than he was. They had eagerly taken his cash bribe, turned over the keys without being asked, and they’d even given him easy directions to the penthouse flat. The ShinRa’s a prick anyways… one of them had said, always bitching about something or another. Give him a good smack for me, will ya?

So now they were in the elevator, putting on their gasmasks and getting their weapons ready. Reno busied himself with tucking his spikes of fire-red hair under a black knit cap; Ralph blotted out the camera with spray paint despite the guard’s assurance that it would be turned off for the ride, mumbling something about never trusting anyone on the plate; Chops was bitching that he couldn’t see a damn thing in the gasmask; Red was just standing there, arms crossed, head lowered.

Once the elevator reached the top, Reno turned to his men and said, “Stick to the plan… don’t do anything stupid. Don’t kill Rufus, don’t take off your masks, and don’t call me by my name. He knows me, I can’t stress that enough, but he won’t recognize me unless one of you idiots blurts my name.”

“What if Sephiroth’s there?” Red asked in his emotionless monotone.

Reno patted the gun lodged in the waist of his pants. “Kill him,” he said.

The doors slid open and they silently filed out, not making the slightest noise as they crept down the carpeted hallway. When they reached Rufus’ apartment, Reno held his breath, stuck the key in the doorknob, and eased the door open. It was dark inside and deathly quiet, save the low hum of the fridge. He scanned the living room while his men scanned the other corners of the first few rooms. A motion from Ralph caught his attention; he eased over to where he was standing, and there it was. The Masamune was resting against a wall, glowing in the dim light. Reno’s heart lurched in his chest – he fought down the urge to call off the whole operation. Forcing himself to be calm, he motioned to Red and Chops, directing their attention to the sword, then drew his gun.

* * *

Rufus woke up to the sound of breathing. Not Sephiroth’s breathing… the sound was filtered, distorted somehow. In his haze of sleep, it took him a few moments to deduce that the source of this breathing was obviously from an intruder, so by the time he shouted the crowbar was already descending on the General’s head, cutting through the pitch black of the room. He heard a thud, a muffled curse, a crash. He couldn’t see a damn thing. He made a desperate lurch for the light and just managed to flick it on in time to see Sephiroth with the crowbar in his fist, blinking in hazy confusion at the motionless body sprawled over the foot of the bed. Some dude in a gasmask, no one he recognized. Blood, a little coming from Sephiroth’s head, a lot staining the sheets around the body.

“What the hell is going on?” he shouted, but Sephiroth only shot a glare in his direction before getting to his feet, attention focused on the darkness outside the room. The silence was profound. Rufus wondered briefly if he was dreaming, but the shocking crimson of the blood pluming out on his sheets and the frantic pounding of his heart were entirely too real to be a mere dream. Assassins? Thieves? And how many were there? He wished he had a gun, a big one.

There was no sound when the next two intruders lunged into the bedroom, just a massive composite of spikes, dreadlocks, and insectoid gasmask eyes. They barreled through the doorway and slammed into Sephiroth like a ramrod, nearly knocking him off his feet, and one of them hit him – hard – in the leg with a crowbar, accompanied by a sickening crunch. Rufus cringed and backed against the headboard as the General staggered, then ducked another powerful swing of a crowbar. It was almost too fast to follow their motions as they grappled in the cramped space, and he wasn’t sure who had the upper hand at any point in time. All he was aware of were the loud, gut-wrenching blows of metal into bone when a blow connected, and the sheer skill of the men Sephiroth was up against.

And what happened next was a blur. Rufus saw Sephiroth’s elbow smash into the dreadhead’s skull, he saw a tidal wave of silver follow the motion, and then he heard a gunshot, a muted yet incontrovertible gunshot, cutting through the tar-black of the hallway. Time stood still, so still that the beats of Rufus’ heart felt as far apart as tolls of a church bell; even the sound in the room dropped away to nothing. Nothing, nothing but the echo of that gunshot suspended in the air.

Time lurched back into motion when a stream of wine-dark blood seeped out of Sephiroth’s chest – a thick, sickening stream that slid down his stomach, soaked his boxers, then meandered down his leg and onto the floor. The General’s toxic green eyes were wide with shock, gazing into the black void beyond the doorway. Rufus likened the expression on his face to the way he had looked earlier in the day upon walking in on him and Reno… sheer, incredulous disbelief. Rufus was also so shocked that he barely even noticed when the shorter thug rose up and cracked the General good and hard in the head with his crowbar, dropping him to the blood-mottled carpet floor. The wide open Mako eyes blinked, dilated, then slowly fluttered shut. The red stain on the carpet steadily grew around his still form.

Everything from that point on held a surreal, numb quality. Rufus couldn’t pull his gaze away from Sephiroth, not even when the thug with the gun sauntered into the doorway, stepped casually over the body, and pressed the muzzle up against his head. He felt the cold of the metal against his temple, heard the man hiss a snide threat, and bleakly realized that he might be next, but it didn’t seem to matter. Nothing seemed to matter. Sephiroth’s hair was matted with blood, his face was frozen in an eternal mask of surprise, and the dark red pool just kept growing and growing under his back.

“Hey dumbass, give us all your loot or you’re next,” the guy with the gun said. The two thugs still standing were cursing fiercely and nursing their wounds, the one sprawled out on the foot of the bed was trying and failing to sit up. “C’mon, get up and unlock your safe. I know you have one, asshole.”

Rufus felt weightless as he stood up and walked into the living room, weightless as he pulled the safe out from under his couch, weightless as he mechanically turned the numbers on the dial until it popped open with a soft click. He was vaguely aware of the other two thugs smashing up his sculptures and digging carelessly through his shelves, taking whatever looked valuable and trashing the rest. The gun holder slung the pack off his back and loaded it with the contents of the safe – family heirlooms, cash, materia, legal documents, everything. Then he went over to the TV and pawed through his videos, tossing them over his shoulder until he apparently found the one he was looking for. He turned around and Rufus could tell he was smiling under that mask. A small black tape was in his hand.

The tape.

“I heard some interesting rumors about this tape,” he said, shoving it into his pack. “Won’t be just rumors anymore, though… I guarantee it.”

The tape. How did he know about the tape? Was he working for Reno? Or maybe… maybe he was Reno? Same build, same snide attitude, same reek of booze and cigarettes. Rufus mouthed the name but no sound came out. It was impossible… wasn’t it?

“Alright, game over,” he said. He grabbed Rufus by the arm and roughly shoved him back into the bedroom, back to where Sephiroth was still bleeding steadily. “Thanks for the hospitality.” He grabbed the crowbar from the General’s fist, clenched it in both hands, and swung. Stars exploded across Rufus’ vision and pain shot like a bullet down his spine. He was vaguely aware of falling onto Sephiroth, faintly conscious of something wet running down his neck, and dully receptive to one last vulgar curse from the thug before he fell unconscious.

*AUTHOR'S NOTE* Hehe... uh... don't worry. It'll be okay, I promise. Not really, but somewhat okay. Let's just say, I'm not going to fuck up the ffvii plot by killing off the characters. That doesn't mean I can't severely injure them though, now does it?