Paper Tiger Burning

I respectfully credit all Original Creators, namely Squaresoft, which became SquareEnix,for these characters. In this way, I pay homage to my Fandom's Original Creator, and illustrate my Community's belief that Fan Fiction is "fair use". I do not claim to own these characters. I do not make money or gil from using these protected characters, nor do I wish to make money or gil from them. In other words, I am borrowing these characters to entertain the adult fanfiction community, but I am doing so with the highest degree of respect to the engineers, game designers, music makers, and voice actors.



They returned from their outing upstairs, their expressions similar. Yet, Sephiroth had the glow of bloodlust status satisfied. The beast within him purred.

“He did work for Havars,” Sephiroth informed me. “But no more, alas.” He went to the sink to wash blood off his pale, elegant hands.

“Your group of sheltered individuals grows,” I murmured, shooting him a meaningful look. “You can leave your father with me if you so wish; I have no trouble with that.”

“I would not leave you with Hojo,” Sephiroth said firmly, uncaring his father listened a mere ten paces away.

“I won’t hurt the Cetra,” Hojo responded irritably. He wiped a spot of red from his cheek.

“Of course, how could I be so stupid?” Sephiroth shot back, his expression one of stony contempt.

Flinching, Hojo walked into the living room and sat on the couch. We followed him. “I made a promise,” he went on. “Did I ever make you a promise I didn’t keep?”

A beat of silence.

“No, actually,” Sephiroth said slowly. “Not that I can remember. You never made promises.”

“I don’t normally make promises, I’m always doubtful I can keep one.” Hojo wrapped his arms around himself and I wondered if he wished for his lab coat. “This one I know I can keep.”

“Why?”

“Because she saved my life, ninny.” Hojo closed his eyes. “I know I’m crazy, Sephiroth, but I have moral codes too. I just happened to suspend most of them in regards to you, to my utmost regret.” He shivered, dragged Sephiroth’s coat up and over himself. “You probably don’t even know what I’m talking about, and it’s entirely my fault.” He sank down until the couch mostly swallowed his thin, frail form.

Sephiroth looked at me. Hojo had underestimated Sephiroth’s understanding of morals, for Sephiroth’s face clearly showed disappointment.

Talk to him now, while he’s vulnerable and apt to tell you anything, I thought to him. I had to support him and Hojo at the same time without tipping my hand. If Sephiroth knew the extent to which I pitied his sire, he’d balk.

Then stay, he sent back. Two flawed personalities need a stabilizer; any good diplomat will tell you such.

In answer I sat down on the settee. I would stay as long as needed. If I hadn’t been invited I would have spied upon them without remorse.

Sephiroth easily shoved the coffee table to one side and sat on the floor directly at his father’s feet. It gave me a twinge of appreciation to view him thusly, for he lost none of his bearing or impact. He just couldn’t look subservient, Sephiroth, not for an instant. He wouldn’t look vulnerable or weak even while dying.

Except when his eyes became the eyes of a child…

“Why didn’t you try to correct your error, regarding me,” Sephiroth asked, making Hojo’s eyes crack open. “Why didn’t you approach me once you realized I belonged to you?” His tone, perfectly even, betrayed none of the heartbreak I knew he harbored.

Hojo favored him with a look of mild disbelief. “Boy,” he said. “Would you have cared?”

“I don’t know, but you should have tried. I should have been worth the effort of trying.”

Hojo’s eyes blinked rapidly. He sat up a bit, looking at me before looking back to his son. “I took the coward’s way out,” he said quietly. “I didn’t know how to be your father, and we already had an antagonistic relationship.” He took his glasses off to rub at his face with tired fingers. “I honestly believed you would kill me if you knew. Until this morning I still believed it.” Drawing a deep, shuddering breath, Hojo’s eyes opened and fixed on his son once more. “If not for the pretty Cetra sitting in this room with us, you would have.”

Sephiroth’s eyes dampened for the space of five seconds. A very small smile moved his sensuous mouth. “You’re likely correct.”

*************************************************************************************


“He’s sleeping,” I informed Sephiroth, shutting the bedroom door. “Shall I wake him?”

“No, let the old crackpot slumber,” Sephiroth retorted. He sat on my floor, posing in a similar fashion to how he’d perched on that rock in Wutai.

I loved him in these brief, unguarded moments. He had a childish disregard for decorum when acting naturally, and he threw his body around like an exceedingly graceful nine-year-old. But my eyes just feasted on his body, seeing nothing childish about his build. Yes, when Sephiroth flowed, he hypnotized me. I knew most people would find his natural self like this. Large, beautiful and passionate, he presented quite a show.

“I made something for you,” I said.

Sephiroth looked up at me, his eyes unwary and interested. “When will I get it?”

I grinned. “Right now, I guess,” I said, amused at his completely unaffected anticipation. I handed him the pillowcases. “These are your favorite, to judge how worn they are,” I began, flipping the edges back to show him my embroidery work.

Sephiroth traced the raised lines of the wing with a touch approaching reverence. He looked up into my eyes.

He liked it.

“Thank you, Aerith,” he murmured. “I’m sure I’ll sleep better.”

“Oh?” I put the pillowcases beside him, kneeling at his side but facing him. “Because you’re getting your favorite cases back? You probably wondered where they were.”

Sephiroth smiled. “I’ll let you discern the reason,” he said. “Come closer.”

I shivered at his quiet command. I moved up by a short length.

Sephiroth’s smile became a showing of white, feral teeth. “Closer,” he bade.

Openly trembling now, I moved up until the barest distance separated us. Sephiroth, still unmoving, dropped his smile to silky appreciation.

“You are beautiful,” he uttered lowly. “Inside and out, stunning. A hospital gown, a shirt, a Shin-Ra uniform, you always look the same to me. I cannot understand why someone hadn’t taken you.” He touched the back of his hand to my cheek, drawing down slowly and gently. “How is it that I merit this privilege with no rivals?”

Drugged by his touch, I could still see humor. “You haven’t any rivals,’ I reminded him, trying to repress myself. The idea of any man deciding to go up against Sephiroth for my favor was just ridiculous. Even he had to see that, no matter how caught up in his romantic moment.

Sephiroth’s eyes took in my inward struggle. His eyes began to gleam with humor. I felt his hand playfully take my jaw and shake me. “I wax poetic on your behalf and you find me funny?” he asked. “What a blow to my ego.”

I leaned against his strong body to laugh. After a moment he chuckled once, deep in his chest. “Your fearlessness is my utter undoing,’ he confessed. “There’s always an element of fright behind the eyes of everyone I encounter, but not you.”

I sat back a little, but leaning on him still. “I’m not afraid of the dark,” I said softly. “And thankfully, you aren’t afraid of the light.”

“But I am afraid of the light,” Sephiroth said. “I just keep going despite it.”

*************************************************************************************

Because she wished it and because I believed Hojo, I let him stay with her. He and I both took a leave of absence, citing medical issues. Rufus could do nothing. I imagined he stewed loudly; voicing his complaints to whomever would listen. But he still needed me and he still needed Hojo.

Every few hours I dropped in on my flower girl, just to assure myself of her safety. I knew on some instinctive level Hojo meant his vow, and I knew she could take care of herself, but it didn’t stop me from visiting. Aside from her safety I felt compelled to see her. I knew she had to know it, yet I cared not one whit.

On the evening of this first day of leave, Aerith put her sewing down and approached a lightly dozing Hojo. I watched her place her hand on his forehead, her own brow furrowing in concentration. Hojo made a small noise but didn’t awaken. Aerith nodded to herself after a moment before going back to her needlework.

“What do you do to him, when you touch him?” I asked, curious. I knew she healed him of course, but in what manner? Her powers were still mysterious to me and I suspected they would always be so.

“I calm his thoughts. Even in sleep your father is nothing but tormented; his own mind takes a turn when his memories and guilt subside.” Aerith made a few stitches, her eyes dark. “He never rests. He speaks names aloud, remembers his past, and confronts people…” She snipped her thread, lacing another color into her needle while throwing me a glance. “Apparently his own father caused him much grief. He has an older brother in Gongaga, a potions-maker, with whom he seems to speak freely.”

“I have an uncle?” The news interested me.

“His name is Syvas, that’s all I know.”

“Surely he would be dead now. Hojo is only alive and somewhat active because of his mako levels.” I looked critically at my father. He certainly wasn’t lively these days. In fact, he looked like a vampire.

“I don’t think Syvas is dead, but I could be wrong.” Aerith began a new series of stitches. At this point I couldn’t yet tell what she designed. “And I know what you’re thinking. Your father will recover. If I can manage to stomach his pain for a week I can do him a great deal of good.”

“You take his pain?” This alarmed me. I didn’t want her taking any pain because of Hojo. Shiva only knew what sort of taint Hojo could spread to my peerless flower girl over time.

“I see it, accept it, soothe it,” she answered. “Most of his problems come from his various psychiatric disorders. But being around me will help that too. His brain wasn’t always like this; I can make him remember the time when he wasn’t deranged. Often that is all required to cause improvement with such things.” She put her sewing down, rubbing tired eyes. “I remember how the mentally ill seemed attracted to me as a child. I wonder how I could have ever forgotten that, but treating Eldon and then Hojo prompted the memories to return.”

She impressed me without ever meaning to, my flower girl. Still, I didn’t want her in any pain. “Don’t help him,” I told her firmly. “He doesn’t deserve it.”

Aerith looked up at me, her eyes sparking bright green. “You can’t stop me,” she said calmly. “This is my area of expertise, Sephiroth. I know when I am pushing too hard or harming myself. No permanent damage comes from my method of healing.”

“I can stop you,” I challenged. If I had to stop her, I would. She would not fall prey to Hojo in any fashion whatsoever, not while I watched over her.

Aerith tossed her sewing down again, getting to her feet. I watched her advance upon me, wondering what she might do to assert her will against mine. She’d yet to really challenge me over anything, which I hoped not to continue. I liked a little bit of the way females fought, just not the way Sheila Shinra fought. I could rub my hands together with relish over the idea that Aerith might employ feminine persuasion against me.

She knelt on the floor before me, placing her warm hands on my knees. “I very much hope you do not stop me,” she said softly. “If for no other reason than I ask it of you.”

I silently cursed her for exploiting my weak spot, namely, herself. “You get up off that floor,” I growled, torn between the satisfaction of a king and the guilt of a tyrant. I enjoyed it when people groveled, it amused me, but she’d knelt at my feet before, in death. “I don’t ever want to see you kneeling in front of me. You’re the only person that shouldn’t.”

I imagined only one activity she should kneel for, but we were so far from that intimacy I couldn’t bear to think about it. My gaze stayed on her lips just a beat too long. I jerked my gaze up to her eyes, looking for her thoughts and feelings.

Aerith slowly stood up.

“Sephiroth,” she murmured.

I watched her part her legs and lower herself astride me. The heat of her feminine core blanketed my stirring cock. I sat frozen on the settee, assimilating that she had made this move upon me, and that I didn’t mind her actions one bit. What would she next do? Already I felt the tingle of lust beginning in my blood. The scent, sight and sound of her stirred me; the feel of her drugged me.

Her little hands spread over my collarbone. I shivered.

“You could help me, Sephiroth,” she whispered. “It wouldn’t be dangerous at all, that way.” Her hands skimmed down, grazing my nipples, which until that moment I hadn’t known could feel good. A woman’s nipples were great sources of pleasure, but not a man’s. I shifted restlessly, trying not to thrust up against her.

“See, my sort of healing requires touch,” she went on, her voice low and sweet. “But being touched by someone else helps me to recover faster.” Her hands drifted lower, dragged lightly across my stomach. “If you would just touch me every time I helped Hojo, everything would be fine.”

She wanted me to touch her? By Shiva, I would touch her.

“You beautiful, persuasive thing,” I murmured, taking her hips in my hands. “You have a lot of confidence in my ability to stop, don’t you?” I pressed her down, seating her directly on my straining cock. Her eyes widened.

You want the proof of your successful seduction? I thought to her. “Now what are you going to do with me, hm?” I whispered, winding my arms around her.

She shifted and our eyes locked. Curiosity and feminine need emanated from her. And, for the first time, fear. But this was dark, delicious fright, the enjoyment of fear; it had a category its own, entirely exclusive to the mating dance.

She chose to fear me.

I’d give her a little anxiety, if it turned her on. She’d asked for it nicely, what with making her unsubtle and completely charming advance upon me. I had just enough control to torture us both unmercifully.

“Touch you,” I said, trapping her arms at her sides. She was so slender I could do it with one arm. “But where shall I begin?”

To my delight and greed, she trembled all over. Her eyes slid nearly shut. Her nipples peaked, thrusting against the cloth of her form-fitting garment. Lips parting, she released a little pant of surprise and want.

Nothing could possibly tempt me more than her.

She could take me. Why did I wait?

She relaxed. Carefully, eyes sneaking up to mine, she rolled against me.

White hot lust shot through me. My hips bucked before I could stop them, jarring her. Her gasp echoed in the quiet room. I felt her nails gouging my sides and loved it. If only I hadn’t instructed the flower girl on her new strength. I could put those hands on my back and let her rip into me while I fucked her across a bed. I wouldn’t be satisfied unless I slaked my thirst in her. And slowly. I wanted nothing in my way. I wanted hours upon hours to explore her, to find out what made her cry out, what made her come undone.

Panting slightly, I nuzzled into her hair. My lips dragged her silky skin, over the spot of Holy Ones perfume. I hadn’t told her of the perfume’s ability to heighten sensation. Why would I ruin it for myself? She gasped again, trembling, her thighs clenching at my middle.

“I know how to administer good pain,” I confessed, speaking in her ear, keeping her tight against me. “And I can make you want it, flower girl.”

She whimpered.

Abruptly, Hojo’s cough reminded me we weren’t alone. Aerith stiffened. We turned our heads to see Hojo coming to wakefulness. His eyes fixed upon us. Blinking, he shook his head. I watched his unsteady hand replace his glasses. For a moment he just looked at the tableau we presented. Then, he cocked his head to one side. “To be blunt,” he said, “I did consider breeding you together.”

Aerith, blushing, lowered her head. But, she smiled.

I gave Hojo a measuring stare. “What stopped you?”

Hojo shrugged. “Adding white to black usually makes red, not grey. I didn’t think I had the strength or the years left to supervise your offspring. The power and abilities the two of you exhibit will produce extraordinary beings.”

Surreal and significant, the air between us moved. I bent my head, forcing Aerith to meet my eyes. “See?” I said. “My dad said it was ok.”

She giggled, broke free of me and ran into the bedroom. I caught a brief glimpse of her reddened face before the door shut quickly. I grinned. Not the ending I had envisioned, but fun nonetheless.

Hojo snapped his fingers, bringing my eyes back to his scowling visage. “You’ll only have once; she’ll be pregnant the moment you think about coming. I suggest you let me inject a few sperm-killing nanites in you, Sephiroth, or play time is over in no time flat.”

“Don’t you want a grandchild?” I teased.

Hojo blinked. He grabbed a newspaper and took a pen out of his pocket. Leaning forward so I could see, he drew a fairly realistic sperm across the financial section. “This is normal sperm,” he said, his voice taking on the classroom quality I knew so well. He drew another, larger one with a score of tails coming off it. “This is your sperm. Just like you, big, aggressive and fast.” He tossed me the paper. “I’d put the nanites in her, too, just to be safe.”

“What a show and tell,” I muttered. He had to thrust reality under my nose. Always a kill-joy, Hojo.

“I’m not joking in the least,” Hojo replied. “You mark my words on this, boy. Your sperm is so determined to do their job they live twice as long as an ordinary man’s. Ten days wouldn’t be too long of a projection.”

“Is this why you had me jerk off in a jar before I went to SOLDIER, so you could see how efficiently I might knock someone up?” I grimaced at him.

“It’s routine, Sephiroth. Everyone jerks off in a jar before they go to SOLDIER.” Hojo sneered at me. “There are all sorts of hidden maladies that exhibit only in ejaculate, or in the quality of it and quantity of it. So, believe me when I say I’m surprised you don’t already have a brace of chocobo jockeys by now.” He shook his head. “You even emit a pheromone to attract playmates, though I don’t know how you do; no one else does that I know of.”

“The flower girl does,” I corrected. “Or at least she does since I took her from you.”

“I hadn’t noticed,” Hojo said. “I’m probably too old to scent a doe.”