Incubus

        Truth was, there weren't
many places to go in that damned city, even in darkest night, that were
completely abandoned--and there were far fewer places that could ever be
classified as "safe".  To further the wickedness of truth, he found
himself dressed like a long-haired, one-armed soldier of some sort. 
That... would not be taken lightly in any circles.  Especially not
the homeless sector, willing to kill anything related to Shin-Ra. 
Then there were the whores, which were fine one-on-one but damn dangerous
in packs.  He doubted any amount of time would change that fact.

        So what the bloody bowels
of hell was he to do?

        He stumbled around the dead
parts of that wretched wasteland for hours, wondering just that. 
He had nowhere to go.  He had nothing to do.  And for all he
knew, the world had changed... but not this city, that was for sure. 
Maybe some buildings were rubble, but... they always had been, deep down. 
Rotten from the blueprints to the steel.

        He found thoughts of that
wonderful, horrible chrome man following his motions with disturbing frequency. 
At first it was easy to press away in favor of trying to come up with a
plan merely to survive... but then it just kept coming.  Pulsating
quietly at the edge of his consciousness like a heartbeat.  Like breathing. 
And if he stopped moving, stopped trying to think of other things, he'd
be able to focus more clearly on it... and it would take him over...

        He thrust an old lamppost
over in anger.  It shattered before it even made contact with the
ground, both from the sheer force of his emotions and because it had been
rotted from the inside out.  Ah, how symbolic that was...  That
man of his dreams, that cold and beautiful nightmare, taking him apart
from the inside out... how could he be so haunted by anyone?  Yet
alone a man?  Granted those two orgasms circling the vision
of the creature had been far better than he'd imagined possible, more than
the simple profoundness of physical pleasure, but... even then.  He'd
never been so obsessed with the million women before that... but none of
them had been so... so...

        No.  His own mind was
tricking him.  He completely denied the very existence of the obsession,
electing ins to to wander aimlessly.  Looking up to get his bearings
on a direction, however... that was the building.  The same building
he'd been sitting across from hours earlier, being the perfect voyeur.

        So much for aimless
wandering.  "Fuck."  He spoke to himself, the very word taking
on a wholly different meaning from what he'd expected... and yet didn't
understand.  None of this was within his range of understanding,
and that's what was so goddamn aggravating.  Frustrating.

        There was nowhere to go. 
And there was nothing to do.  So what was next?  What the hell
was to come next?!

        Slivers of wicked thoughts
caught his mind by surprise--and more surprising still, he smiled bitterly
because of them.  Yes, that was just what he should do, wasn't it? 
That was just the best damn thing to make a horrible situation even worse. 
He should see for certain, to be able to find out, to know... make it end,
cause it all to be relieved...

        And so he moved carefully,
closer to the building.  His intentions were sick, totally disturbing...
and he knew that.  He accepted that.  He could take any punishment
in the world just to be able to touch the cold creature... to see if he
were real... and to cause all of these horrible things inside of him to
stop,
one way or another.

 

        It was a Shin-Ra building,
alright.  The locks were simple, and the guards were already too tired
to fight off careful blows to the head from a skilled assassin.  No
need to actually  kill them... not yet...

        More locks and security
codes, just as easy to pass through as they always had been.  Morons. 
He truly wondered about the state of things... not that any of them mattered. 
He was rather hoping that he'd never have to worry about little things
like that again.

        Part of him cried out to
turn back while he still could and run, as fast and as far away
from the place as he could--but that part of him was not one that had experienced
the last orgasm, apparently.  The further he crept, the more floors
he climbed, the more... animalistic some raw voice inside him became; louder
than his own, louder even than the teasing one that haunted him in his
worst moments.  It was as if he were scenting the dream man's blood,
searching frantically to... to end something.  That alone was
not a thought that he cared to reflect on, nor was the ease and speed at
which he gracefully shifted through the shadows, closer and faster toward
his goal.

        Whatever that was to be. 
He came to a dead stop momentarily atop the last stairway, wondering exactly
what the hell he was actually doing then and there; really doing. 
It was the right floor... looking the right direction... and he knew in
his mind's eye that he'd counted windows and rooms correctly...  Even
if he hadn't had that sort of a perfect memory, there would have been no
denying where that chrome creature had been.  Or, perhaps... still
was.

        He was... here.  Wherever
else that was, for all the meaning it held...

        His legs felt on the verge
of collapse as he waited at the door.  For what, he didn't know. 
Certainly not an invitation--in frustration and a blossoming carnal fear,
it seemed his own leg had decided to kick the door long before his brain
had given it permission.

        He paused, wide-eyed, to
see the door splinter and crack away from its hinges.  Even the knob
and the inside locks themselves rose from the wood though it had been a
piece of driftwood.  Strange that such an easily broken door would
harbor one of Shin-Ra's elites... certainly he couldn't have been
the cause.  He'd always trained well, but never to be that strong.

        Logic completely fell away
as he laid his eyes on the domain of his most recent and strongest fantasy,
stepping in without pause, without thought.  It was sparse, no doubt...
a cold, sterile feeling gripped the room.  But, underneath it all...
he knew.  He was within the living quarters of his most magnificent
desire--

        --Raw energy ripped mercilessly
through his body.  The most immediate sensation was crackling, burning
pain--and then an almost pleasant numbness.  Darkness... sleepy nothing...

 

        Small bits of sparkle in
the dark.  Like snowflakes, but not.  Though, if not, then...
what was he se, an, and why did it strike him so oddly?

        Ah, because his eyes were
closed, of course.  The fact that he'd lost consciousness didn't even
strike him as odd until he tried to sit up and get his bearings; then panic
grasped every molecule of his being like a living thing, a monster's maw
around him with teeth ready to shred him to pieces...

        He was on his back, bound;
wrists tied together, to the headboard.  Worse than that, far
worse--he was naked.  Completely exposed.  In an entirely different
location from the last one he remembered.  In fact, this looked more
like some... seedy hotel...

        Something more that simple
panic made a cold sheen of sweat over his body turn burning hot. 
Whatever had happened, he hadn't seen it... hadn't understood.  Yanking
at the ties yielded only whimpers as the rough fibers tightened over wrists
made delicate with time.  He assumed it was only the godawful shit
that Hojo was pumping into his body while he slept that kept everything
from complete atrophy--

        Footsteps.  Long, perfectly
patterned footsteps... harsh, heel then toe, click-click, wisp, click-click...
steps on a mission.  And worse, coming closer.

        He took a quick, desperate
look around the room to find something to escape with, to fight with, anything--but
all that he saw was the bed under him, a small window covered in tattered
material that was obviously not a curtain, and a door on the other side. 
A single door with a single lock... and the footsteps had stopped.

        There wasn't even opportunity
for his heart to pound, no wait before a key slid easily into the lock
and turned in one motion.  The door opened, the puddle of dim light
from outside spreading slowly.

        No.  No. 
It wasn't, because it simply could not be.  What he saw... was not
possible.  That could not be the chrome man of his dreams... could
not be the creature he'd jerked off to admittedly more than once, closing
and locking the door before turning back to him...

        No!!! his mind screamed,
causing him to yank against the bonds again, digging his heels into the
old mattress to get any sense of control.

        The cold man only regarded
him from a distance, the look on his face betraying none of his thoughts...
perhaps save one.  From where he stood, the entire scene was... breathtaking. 
This pale, beautiful creature with the most unusual eyes, laid out before
him...

        Realizing with a horrible
certainty that he was not going to escape, his struggles ceased for the
moment.  Taking note of his nakedness again, he snapped his legs tightly
together to still the shaking in them.  Being forced knee-deep into
the reality of the situation, it was all he had to protect himself. 
He knew he couldn't have been doing a very good job at disguising his outright
helpless dread when the silver-haired man carefully stepped around to the
other side of the bed... and advanced.  There was no waiting, neither
patience nor a lack of it in the man's motions as he leaned in, mattress
dipping just a bit.  Like the military darling he was, he cut directly
to the chase.

        "I
saw you outside my window."  He whispered, his lips ghosting the former
Turk's ear.

        In
turn, he went completely cold.  He must have been caught at the very
end of it, must have been seen--

        "And
I thought you were very beautiful."  The chrome man finished quietly. 
"I couldn't help but think... that I wanted you for myself..."

  &nbsbsp;bsp;    His
entire body stiffened.  Ignoring the horrible possibilities, the tension
of the bindings around his wrists, not to mention the steadily numbing
organic hand and both arms losing circulation, it seemed as though his
mind had absolutely shut down.  This was not happening, this was not
happening...

        "This
is
happening."  The metal creature growled.  "Il not
allow you to deny that."

        Ruby
eyes went wide, staring past everything in his field of vision.  Those
words... something so horribly final about those words...

        "There
is a monster inside of you..." the living nightmare whispered almost gently,
his tone conversational despite the depths of terrifying mystery around
it.  "I hope you learn how to use it.  Better than to fear it,
don't you think?"

        How
could he even think to respond?  He didn't look, didn't want to see
how close the other man was to him--he could already feel it.  Both
heat and a peculiar kind of cold that was more than mere sensation radiated
off of the body edging closer, breath smelling of Mako and... desire...

        "You
don't even understand what you are now..." the silver monster continued
to tease deviously, both with his words and with the feather-light touch
he placed on his prisoner's hip.  He couldn't risk his captive's thought
process to spark too wildly before the time was right.  "You've yet
to see yourself in a mirror.  Yet to understand your needs..." 
Oh, there was so much more he could say... and yet the silence and the
touch was far better.

        To
his surprise and horror, that so slight caress brought about a helplessness
he had never experienced before.  It was... oh, gods, it was a need
he'd never fathomed possible, and hidy wdy was responding.  No,
damn you!!! his mind screamed at the rest of him so loudly that he
honestly thought he could hear it.  By all rights an accident, his
vision finally returned to the dream obsession next to him... and that
terrible, knowing grin.  He quivered with the idea that perhaps it
was not he, himself, that should be concerned about what he may or may
not hear...

        The
chrome man lifted from the bed, his eyes on his captive the entire time. 
Ah, yes.  No reason to hold back any longer.  The adrenaline
was surging... and that was just perfect.

        There
was no shyness in his motions, no suggestions of teasing.  Nor of
waiting.  Little as the bound man truly wanted to take his eyes from
the undressing form in front of hi fea fear of proportions previously unfathomable
was overtaking his entire consciousness.
I have no choice in this. 
He's not slowing down.  He's going to...  No, wait.  Wait! 
I don't think I want this.  Not this way.  Wait!

        But
the cold silver-tressed man persisted, wordlessly.  Long dro dropped
on the floor behind him, he flaunted his perfect physique for hardly a
second before he began unstrapping his shoulder armor, pulling the gloves
off effortlessly as he went.

        Considering
the unfortunate circumstances of being held against his will, the bound
gentleman found that it didn't matter how quickly the clothes were discarded--everything
was taking place in a nightmarish slow motion.  Time seemed viscous,
perhaps only because he wanted it so badlybe. be.
Why, exactly...
he didn't even wish to figure out.  Pride dictated that he not so
much as attempt to struggle again, but pride be damned.  He tugged
once more at the bindings in hopes either they or the headboard would give
way...

        --And
stopped abruptly before he truly understood why.  It was not a sensation
he was used to, but his eyes all too cruelly allowed him to take the situation
apart bit by bit.  The chrome creature's hands rested on the former
Turks' knees... waiting.  Watching.  Ready.

        Even
with all of the strength he could muster to keep them together, his legs
parted easily under the metal creature's force--at least, that's what he
had to believe.  He had to keep his wits about him, had to reason
that he was fighting this, that he was trying to escape from the pain,
these clutches...

        No
time wasted, the nightmare took his opportunity to climb stop his prisoner,
bare flesh meeting in a rush of nearly agonizing heat.  While the
body beneath tensed, his own lay almost comfortably above for a moment,
hands moving along the other's sides slowly to take in everything the lithe
body had to offer.  Smooth, tone, perfect...

        And
then both pairs of unnaturally colored eyes met, and locked.  Cold
and metal though the man atop him was, those eyes were the most perfect
green...  Bitterness and lust existed within them in equal proportions,
but somehow only the lust truly came through in them.  Lust and...
and what was that... terrible other thing..?
Please... the raven-haired
man's his lips moved, but his breath did not.  What he was asking
for truly escaped him... he just knew that he couldn't give it all up so
easily.

        The very chance to surrender
or to fight was not granted.  No reason and no time to waste, the
beast above brought his not so willing partner into full initiation.

        It
was a terribly brutal act of violence- even though the former Turk screamed
so loudly that voicvoice no longer worked, one portion of his body that
Hojo had generally neglected went completely rigid.  It shouldn't
have, given the situation... but somehow perfectly erect, it throbbed in
steadily increasing significance... but not with the pain.

        The
chrome beast withdrew completely, then rammed himself back inside. 
The broken cry from underneath only made his smirk wider.  He was
so tempted to allow himself to be sated there and then, to enjoy the body
beneath and cast the rest ot hell... but he retained his composure with
another brutal thrust, settling into the sheer thrill of it all. 
Another cry was ripped from below before he slowed down slightly. 
Just enough to lean in close...

        As
the victim felt the beautiful creature above him merely trace his neck
and shoulder with a tongue far too warm for his imagination, he had no
indication of what was to come on the next stroke.  Even as part of
his mind knew that the side of his neck had been pierced with the dream-man's
teeth, the pain seemed to wait, welling up for a moment like blood before
its full weight dropped on him.  Regardless of his massively strained
vocal chords, he was able to manage a shriek; something deep in the core
of himself forced him to flail desperately, to try to get away harder and
more determined than ever before in his life without thought given to the
damaged flesh around his wrist....

        The
creature of silver only grinned inwardly, taking as much blood in one swallow
as he could.  With that cold expression holding the ruby eyes in their
grasp, he reached up and yanked at the ropes holding the other man's wrists. 
The bindings seemed to disintegrate in his hands with his impatient strength,
allowing his victim his arms back.

        He
could have fought.  He could have gone for those otherworldly eyes
with his new hand and torn his way straight for the brain.  But, gods
help him...

        The
cold and wicked beast above cried out sharply, catching the brunt of a
clawed metal hand down his back--but it only drove him onward.  Blood,
heat, lust, pain; the rhythm got faster, harder, steadily driving both
men into something beyond mere physical force.  They were moving like
no mortals ever could, within realms that neither of them had experienced
before or likely would ever after.

        Beyond
sex, beyond sensation, beyond understanding--he could feel something...
awaken within him.  Even as he felt his most horrible and most desired
dream pull away for only long enough to give another full thrust, he felt...
something else, erupting, pulsing within.

        He
was bleeding.  He felt it and smelled it... and even if he hadn't,
he'd have liked to believe he was, anyway.  It wouldn't have seemed...
right, were he not bleeding.  A price to pay.  Blood to taste. 
And maybe, just maybe, his blood would infect the chrome creature as the
discarded liquid inside of him was no doubt already infecting his body.

        A
hand of all extremes--rough, gentle, hot, cold, pleasuring, painful--closed
around him.  His scream was hardly a grunt as he came with the force
of the beginning of time--then two strong hands wound around his throat. 
And he did not mind.  Gods be praised, he did not mind.  He could
die this way.  This would be a rightful way to die!  To perish! 
And his lovely, horrible chrome creature would be the rightful one to end
it all...

 

        ...Not
dead.

        ...Not
alive, certainly.

        It
was far worse... not dead.

        He
had hoped he was wrong with every breath... but when the sensation of the
room was cold and empty... he knew.  Even supposing he believed in
Hell, he didn't think it could ever be that cold and empty.  Were
he a religious man, he'd have bet even Heaven wouldn't have been, either.

        His
flesh ached, inside and out.  His body... it felt ground between stones,
beaten, burned and buried.  His eyes opened slowly to a plain gray-ish
ceiling.  Frankly, there seemed to exist no more in the world.

 

        He
didn't know how long he'd been laying there, and it didn't matter. 
There was sunlight over in the corner of his peripheral vision... but he
hadn't the strength to glance over.  Nor the will.

        Yes. 
The will.  That was a funny thing.  A horribly bastard-ish quality. 
Oh, for a drink.  His world for a bender that he'd never have to wake
up from.

        The
thought had somehow succeeded in disgusting him enough to get him to sit
up--and what a fucking mistake that was.  Still raw, his voice hardly
cracked a high-pitched hiss as he tried to shout a curse at the pain. 
Certainly that indicated that his insides had been turned to mush, didn't
it?

        And
yet there we was, sitting, smarting, wiping tears from his watering eyes
at the agony.  ...Or was that it?

        He
made a half-hearted fist at that goddamn part of his mind that always cruelly
contradicted him.  It may have been gods knew how many years since
he was officially a Turk, but he didn't need to break down at the thought
that... that... what?  What did he have to think about anymore?

        Well,
looking down, clothing was something of a priority if he wanted to make
it out of a seedy hotel alive.  Though he was still a bit unsure of
how much he treasured that last part...

        Rubbing
his eyes to clear them, he leaned over slightly to pop his back... and
noticed a change of clothes waiting for him on the floor at the foot of
the bed.  They were quite a departure from his Turk suit... and somehow
he didn't mind.  Basic black when it came to both shirts and pants
was never a thing he minded... but the red of the cloak somehow sent an
epic shudder down his spine, almost making him recoil with memories of
awakening in the lab.

        And
then, buckling the cloak into place... he knew.  It was a fate he
understood that he needed to accept some day.  Making it easier on
himself... "some day" may as well be that very instant.  Shin-Ra would
come.  Hojo would be looking for him... and certainly after the night
he'd just had, after Shin-Ra's most precious possession had claimed him...
there would be no hiding.  Running, maybe, but not for long.

        It
was enough to drive any man to madness... but he thought he'd already been
there and safely come back--more or less.  His fate may as well be
accepted.  And, sitting at the foot of the bed... he did just that.

 

        Guards came later in the
day.  SOLDIERs.  Racing up the steps with their guns drawn. 
But he didn't move.  They found him on the edge of the bed, looking
out the window.  There was no fight for his capture.

        Physically, it had been
several years since he'd made his way into Hojo's lab.  Even escorted
by guards, it seemed like no time at all had passed since that moment...
the day he'd marched down to demand Lucretia be released from the experiments. 
Funny thing, time.  A thing he was beginning to think he'd have no
more worries for.

        The guards dropped him off
at the door but remained behind to herd him on, no doubt at the mad scientist's
insistence.  He was always worried about his work being ruined...
or stolen.  Even by the Shin-Ra employees.  Sick little fuck.

        He stumbled through the
door without a fight, heart hardly pulsing with the sound of the sliding
metal and the locking mechanism behind him.  His fate had been sealed
before then... no sense in mourning it in front of the man he hated.

        Hojo stood far too proudly
near the other side of the room, noting the way the former Turk walked. 
Oh yes, it was no secret what had happened to him... and frankly, he was
rather glad.  Any pain caused was deserved, as far as he was concerned.

        Feeling more like a test
subject than he had before, his voice relented a strange question. 
It wasn't something he consciously asked, nor was his voice completely
up to the task... but he made do.  "That was... the experiment, wasn't
it?  Lucretia's..."

        For once in his miserable
life, Hojo appeared to be surprised beyond words.  There was a long,
blank pause before he found the answer on his lips.  "Sephiroth."

        Sephiroth. 
The word turned slowly in his mind... and bore harshly into his stomach. 
Oh... oh, gods...

        A bright bolt of pain ignited
his arm before he could pull away.  He was able only to look down
at the syringe as it was emptied swiftly into his veins, an instantaneous
woozy feeling taking that much more out of his resolve.  He didn't
fight wherever it was that Hojo was dragging him to, nor did he give pause
to any of the other thoughts disconnected and floating through his mind. 
The name stayed, though... Sephiroth...  That'd probably been
the love child.  Mako, Jenova, Hojo and Lucretia... laughable. 
Horrible.

        He felt his body being lifted
a bit, then falling.  None of it mattered.  It felt as if he
were being placed in a coffin, in fact.  Deep down, he prayed for
it to be true.  Being buried alive would be a welcome experience after...
after that...

        Hojo's face suddenly appeared
in his vision above.  While the man's features were blurred, his voice
came through in a clarity too perfect.  "He might not be my
child."  The scientist admitted hatefully.  "Let
that
be in your nightmares for the rest of your miserable existence." 
And with that, he closed the lid.

        Well, finishing the trilogy
took me far longer than I ever thought possible.  But I do hope you
fans enjoy.  I suppose what happens next is up to you... unless for
some completely inconceivable reason another bit comes to mind and I have
to write it down.  But then this wouldn't be a trilogy now,
would it? *ducks*

        Again, I thank my fellow
Sephiroth and Vincent fans for their prodding.  Dammit, you guys know
who you are.  And if I mentioned any of you here, that'd only give
you more reason to bug me and get away with it. *grin*