Viral Love

I had no idea what birthed that sudden look of epiphany in Vincent Valentine’s red eyes, but it thrilled me. I loved seeing pure emotion, and that was all he ever gave me.

Beautiful, fucking Turk.

I almost hated him for his loveliness. Instead, I caught myself wanting to worship him. I hadn’t known how very complicated and intricate his personality, how wonderfully varied his composition, until this journey. I’d missed his layers because I couldn’t get past the perfection of his top one.

I really, really wanted him.

His eyes moved over me without seeing. Whatever had his mind, had it good. It had to be absolutely delicious, and I wished he’d share.

My heart flipped over as he shoved off the tree trunk, advanced and grabbed me by the shoulders. Aggressively, he took my face in his hands and just stared into my eyes. A tremor ran through me, created of sudden awareness. All craziness aside, he could crack me like I’d cracked coconuts to feed him. It didn’t help he had a claw point poised under my right eyeball.

Our harsh breathing joined into a primal sort of song. Valentine continued to stare into me, seeking, looking for something. I had nothing to hide, but not knowing what he wanted made just giving it a problem.

“Sometimes, Hojo, I really hate your honesty,” he said, releasing me. He looked like I’d pulled a rug out from under him. “Other times, I rely upon you for it.”

Well, good news, but what did my honesty have to do with anything? I tossed my cigarette butt, and then thought better of leaving it. I made sure to grind it down to atoms to prevent a fire. “Will we reach North Corel by evening?”

“Most likely.” Valentine tightened and adjusted his bandana, briefly affording me a view of his pointed ears. His hands were shaking. He stalked away without another word, leaving me baffled as to what set him off.

I followed him all day, not initiating any conversation. Some instinct just told me not to speak. He had something serious percolating in his pretty head.

If anyone wanted my opinion, I’d tell them North Corel stood as a perfect example of what damage Shin-Ra can do. I’d never seen such an abysmal, depressing like shit-hole in my life. The people wandered around in the aimless way that barely-there survivors of a holocaust will; with unfocused anger, confusion and dismalness.

Yet, Valentine had friends here. He had friends everywhere.

“Stay in the inn,” he mumbled.

The inn was a shit-hole, just like the town. I felt sorry for these people, really. A lot of them looked like they needed medical attention. The chance of a physician out here was slim to none. The little girl standing beside the proprietor held her arm awkwardly. The girl’s mother had a terrible case of sunburn and a pronounced limp.

Feeling dismal myself, I followed Valentine upstairs to the room. It had two single beds instead of one larger one, to my disappointment. He ordered food brought up to us and sat down. He took off his boots and assumed a brooding pose, one leg stretched flat, one bent at the knee, and his arm draping over. His claws dangled, clicking together as he lost himself in thought.

So beautiful…

The food came. Cabbage soup and stone-ground wheat bread with extra grit. I didn’t complain. It was obvious they offered their best. And, it did go a long way to making my stomach less shriveled. Valentine joined me after awhile. He too, ate without comment.

“We’ll have to kill him,” he announced. “Quinn can’t continue this.”

I nodded in agreement. I wouldn’t give up on getting Scarlet and Heideggar, however. They owed me. They owed me so much I doubted their deaths would satisfy. I wanted them tortured.

I noticed Valentine staring at me. Turning my head, I frowned. “What?”

“It doesn’t matter,” he answered quietly, going back to his brooding pose on the bed.

“Thirsty?” I asked, watching him flex his metal fingers.

He made a golden fist, then relaxed in the same two seconds. His leather clothing creaked as he flexed his muscles. “My blood thirst comes soon after I recover from becoming Chaos,” he revealed quietly. “It ebbs and flows like tide water. Right now, it’s merely approaching high tide.”

I’d suspected as much.

I started un-strapping my shirt, feeling his eyes upon me.

“I don’t think you’ve eaten well enough,” he said after a moment. I heard fear in that lovely voice. Attacking me on the spur of the moment, at highest tide, was one thing, but just approaching me for the blood was something else.

For one thing, feeding from me hit us both as an intimate act. I wanted closeness with him, but he shied from it. Valentine denied himself pleasure as a habit. But, habits can be broken. Who better to help him kick a habit than me, a doctor?

“I’m not willing to donate unless I’m clean,” I said, making it seem more like I followed orders than offered. He’d either go with that or not, but he’d lose his fear. I got up and went to our tiny, tiny bathroom. Taking a pitifully thin but clean washcloth, I started washing my face, neck and chest.

He came in as I removed my glasses, standing just inside the threshold, his powerful body filling the frame. I shivered at his aroused scent. Feeling a bit intimidated by his presence, I rinsed and dried. Jesus Jumped-Up Christ, he’d make a straight man spread his legs. I no sooner had my glasses in hand than he grabbed me.

I found it interesting, this contrast between Chaos treating me gently and Vincent Valentine treating me roughly. He struck inner balance, there, surely, for if he treated me roughly in his demon form, he’d kill me. And, he risked too much to be gentle with me as himself.

We half-fell from the bathroom. Valentine latched fingers in my hair and teeth in my throat.

Oh…

This blend of feelings simply overwhelmed. It was new all over again. I knew I’d felt this twice before, but it felt no less powerful. Feeling like a prey animal had benefits. I loved submitting to him, loved how he held me so tightly. He vibrated such strength while drinking from my vein, such intense want.

I could get more out of the Turk, I knew it.

I struggled with him, made it a fight by faking second thoughts. He growled, wrestled me to the nearest bed and pinned me to it. Giving me a small but forceful shake of warning, he never let up feasting upon me.

I relaxed into the bliss, drifting on waves of purest pleasure. I found it very hard to lie still and not touch him, but I knew if I crossed that line, he’d withdraw. He’d figure out I really wanted this. I couldn’t have that.

Ecstasy crashed upon me, prompting an orgasm without ejaculate. In between raw gasping and thrashing, I wondered how he could do that to me. Men always produced something when they came, even if just the miserly drops of a man too hard used.

The prickling pain at my neck brought me back down a little, but not much. Though well aware he could really hurt me with those teeth, I knew he wouldn’t unprovoked. But, I was getting sleepy, a warning sign of significant blood loss. “Valentine,” I whispered. “I think you’d better pull away now.”

He came to human awareness. He stilled, and then removed his teeth. I felt a swell of blood escaping the holes. Shuddering, he tilted his head and licked across the wound. A burst of blinding pleasure seized me, wrung me out for nearly a whole ten seconds. When it subsided, I couldn’t feel blood leaking anymore.

“Are you all right?” he asked, voice rich and harsh at the same time.

“Just sleepy,” I mumbled, barely aware. “Cover me up, would you? Cold.”

A scratchy but warm weight draped over my body. “It’s cold in here,” he admitted, tone adrift with his mysterious inner workings. I heard something heavy dragging, then felt a slight bump. He’d pushed our beds together.

Just as I felt him press against me, it began to rain. I fell asleep to his warmth and to the gentle noise of water falling.