Conflict Of Interest
folder
Final Fantasy VII › Het - Male/Female
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
1
Views:
799
Reviews:
2
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Final Fantasy VII › Het - Male/Female
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
1
Views:
799
Reviews:
2
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Final Fantasy VII, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Conflict Of Interest
Me? I'm always the first person to tear someone a new one for writing something that makes absolutely no sense. I'm a hypocritical bitch. I know. Flames will be laughed at, shared with friends, and then used to cook Mary-Sues. This hasn't been touched by a beta. Excuse any oddballness.
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He approached her from behind, his feet stepping softly on the gravel despite his armor. She was sitting with her legs crossed, staring up at the night sky, admiring it. He remembered her saying something about never having seen the sky until recently. He could understand; having spent 30 years in a coffin, he spent many a night star gazing.
He walked swiftly over to her, gun drawn. She seemed oblivious to his presence until he grabbed her, wrapping his claw around her throat and forcing her head back; pressing and cocking his gun against her temple.
He nearly pulled the trigger, her reaction made him pause. She had been caught off guard. He expected her to immediately retaliate, attempt to fight. Instead she gasped, her head falling back onto his shoulder, her crimson eyes finding and searching his own. Her back arched, supporting hand coming up to grip his clawed fingers. A smirk came over her lips, she looked as though she was about to speak. He dug his claws into her neck to silence her.
She raised her chin higher, closing her eyes. Her body shifted. Discomfort? Anticipation? Arousal? He looked down at her body, her chest thrust out, long, perfectly formed legs still crossed calmly. He was no threat to her. Her hand slipped from his claw to tangle in his hair. He pressed his gun tighter against her head, again expecting an attack. Instead, she merely threaded her leather covered talons though his long black hair.
Neither one was willing to move. Her primary objective could be achieved by simply turning in his grasp and extracting the Proto Materia. He could just as easily slit her throat, put a bullet clean through her pretty head. Still, neither moved.
He considered her lithe form again. She was all hard, lean muscle. He had been with many women in his days as a Turk, the last being Lucrecia.
Lucrecia…
A gasp. Rhythmic rustling of the sheets.
“Vincent…”
Long, brown hair tousled around thin, pale shoulders. Yellow hair ribbon forgotten.
…He often thought of their nights together while traveling with AVALANCHE. He had briefly considered the girls on the airship, some of the women he had seen in recent times, though none caught his attention. Even Shelke, for all her Lucrecia-esque qualities, had failed to arouse his interest. He always saw Lucrecia in his mind, always thought of her no matter who he was with, no matter how like the woman now encased in crystal. Her face, her body, the way she smelled, the way she looked. It never failed.
But somehow, he found himself reacting to the woman sitting frozen in his arms. He dragged one of his clawed fingers down her neck, listening stoically to the low gasp that was ripped from her throat. Her fingers tightened in his hair ever so slightly, her back arching a bit more against his chest. He lowered his gun tentatively, slowly, ready to put Cerberus back in its previous position if she made the slightest threatening move.
He set his gun on the cement block just behind the woman, claws still securely around her neck. She stayed perfectly still, as though just waiting to see what he would do. His gloved human hand came to rest on her shoulder, staying still for a moment, before running gently down, over her breast, down her stomach, coming to rest on her skin just above where her ornamental belt began. His hand grazed the metal briefly, finding it sharp. He wondered how she fought so aptly, the threat of those sharp edges always present. Though, her reaction to his claws on her neck...she seemed to enjoy it.
He turned his attention back to her, looking at her face. Her eyes had closed again, lips slightly parted. It was enough for the long haired man. He studied her belt for a moment, finding that it had clasps on either side. He immediately reached for them, and discarded the twisted metal next to his gun. She still sat still, complacent. He suddenly threw her onto her back, flipping himself on top of her, straddling her hips.
She hit the block with considerable force, another small breath of air accompanying the hit. He ran pinned her down with his claw on one shoulder. He was sure his weight was uncomfortable, but she seemed not to care. He ran his hand down her stomach, this time unhindered by the metal she wore around her hips. He reached the cloth of her undergarments and paused for a moment. He looked at her, her red eyes stared back, daring him. There was no sense of nervousness about her at all. Just arrogance, confidence. His gloved fingertips slid inside the last barrier.
Her back arched, a low purring moan escaping her throat. A few moments of careful teasing before his middle and ring fingers slid into her tight heat. A louder moan reached his ears, eliciting a deep sense of arousal in his own body. He could feel his inner demons stirring. He pulled his hands away, kneeling up over her. He quickly opened his pants, breathing a soft sigh of relief when he was freed. His attention turned back to her, one claw hooking under the fabric at her hips. A simple movement, and she was divested of the cloth.
He lay himself over her, relishing the harsh gasp as he pushed himself inside her. They moved in unison, his claw digging into her shoulder, her talons digging into his back. Her head thrown back, soft moans torn from her throat. Animalistic growls and moans welling up from deep in his chest. Her stomach and face glistened in a fine sheen of sweat. With his genetic modifications, his heart rate had barely picked up. A series of passionate cries signaled her release. Moments later, he threw his head back, loosening his hair of it’s red band. He released inside her.
He raised himself off of the woman. She pushed herself up onto her elbows, pulling her legs in. She smirked, and in one quick movement, had veiled her nudity with that damned twisted metal covering, and stood, all her dignity and arrogance in tact.
He righted himself, standing as well. The two looked at one another for a brief moment, before she spoke.
“The next time we meet, it will not be so pleasurable, my love.”
She took two steps backward to the entrance of an alley way, and with a great leap backwards, was gone.
He was left alone with his thoughts. It was almost as though the encounter had never happened, though a dull throb in his loins suggested otherwise. He smirked, and turned to leave the way he came.
A single thought stopped him dead in his tracks.
Not once, had Lucrecia crossed his mind.
-fin-
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Weird. Fucked up. I know. My boyfriend and I are cosplaying Rosso and Vincent next year, so it was an interesting way to explore the dynamic between these two characters. Reviews always appreciated.
~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~
He approached her from behind, his feet stepping softly on the gravel despite his armor. She was sitting with her legs crossed, staring up at the night sky, admiring it. He remembered her saying something about never having seen the sky until recently. He could understand; having spent 30 years in a coffin, he spent many a night star gazing.
He walked swiftly over to her, gun drawn. She seemed oblivious to his presence until he grabbed her, wrapping his claw around her throat and forcing her head back; pressing and cocking his gun against her temple.
He nearly pulled the trigger, her reaction made him pause. She had been caught off guard. He expected her to immediately retaliate, attempt to fight. Instead she gasped, her head falling back onto his shoulder, her crimson eyes finding and searching his own. Her back arched, supporting hand coming up to grip his clawed fingers. A smirk came over her lips, she looked as though she was about to speak. He dug his claws into her neck to silence her.
She raised her chin higher, closing her eyes. Her body shifted. Discomfort? Anticipation? Arousal? He looked down at her body, her chest thrust out, long, perfectly formed legs still crossed calmly. He was no threat to her. Her hand slipped from his claw to tangle in his hair. He pressed his gun tighter against her head, again expecting an attack. Instead, she merely threaded her leather covered talons though his long black hair.
Neither one was willing to move. Her primary objective could be achieved by simply turning in his grasp and extracting the Proto Materia. He could just as easily slit her throat, put a bullet clean through her pretty head. Still, neither moved.
He considered her lithe form again. She was all hard, lean muscle. He had been with many women in his days as a Turk, the last being Lucrecia.
Lucrecia…
A gasp. Rhythmic rustling of the sheets.
“Vincent…”
Long, brown hair tousled around thin, pale shoulders. Yellow hair ribbon forgotten.
…He often thought of their nights together while traveling with AVALANCHE. He had briefly considered the girls on the airship, some of the women he had seen in recent times, though none caught his attention. Even Shelke, for all her Lucrecia-esque qualities, had failed to arouse his interest. He always saw Lucrecia in his mind, always thought of her no matter who he was with, no matter how like the woman now encased in crystal. Her face, her body, the way she smelled, the way she looked. It never failed.
But somehow, he found himself reacting to the woman sitting frozen in his arms. He dragged one of his clawed fingers down her neck, listening stoically to the low gasp that was ripped from her throat. Her fingers tightened in his hair ever so slightly, her back arching a bit more against his chest. He lowered his gun tentatively, slowly, ready to put Cerberus back in its previous position if she made the slightest threatening move.
He set his gun on the cement block just behind the woman, claws still securely around her neck. She stayed perfectly still, as though just waiting to see what he would do. His gloved human hand came to rest on her shoulder, staying still for a moment, before running gently down, over her breast, down her stomach, coming to rest on her skin just above where her ornamental belt began. His hand grazed the metal briefly, finding it sharp. He wondered how she fought so aptly, the threat of those sharp edges always present. Though, her reaction to his claws on her neck...she seemed to enjoy it.
He turned his attention back to her, looking at her face. Her eyes had closed again, lips slightly parted. It was enough for the long haired man. He studied her belt for a moment, finding that it had clasps on either side. He immediately reached for them, and discarded the twisted metal next to his gun. She still sat still, complacent. He suddenly threw her onto her back, flipping himself on top of her, straddling her hips.
She hit the block with considerable force, another small breath of air accompanying the hit. He ran pinned her down with his claw on one shoulder. He was sure his weight was uncomfortable, but she seemed not to care. He ran his hand down her stomach, this time unhindered by the metal she wore around her hips. He reached the cloth of her undergarments and paused for a moment. He looked at her, her red eyes stared back, daring him. There was no sense of nervousness about her at all. Just arrogance, confidence. His gloved fingertips slid inside the last barrier.
Her back arched, a low purring moan escaping her throat. A few moments of careful teasing before his middle and ring fingers slid into her tight heat. A louder moan reached his ears, eliciting a deep sense of arousal in his own body. He could feel his inner demons stirring. He pulled his hands away, kneeling up over her. He quickly opened his pants, breathing a soft sigh of relief when he was freed. His attention turned back to her, one claw hooking under the fabric at her hips. A simple movement, and she was divested of the cloth.
He lay himself over her, relishing the harsh gasp as he pushed himself inside her. They moved in unison, his claw digging into her shoulder, her talons digging into his back. Her head thrown back, soft moans torn from her throat. Animalistic growls and moans welling up from deep in his chest. Her stomach and face glistened in a fine sheen of sweat. With his genetic modifications, his heart rate had barely picked up. A series of passionate cries signaled her release. Moments later, he threw his head back, loosening his hair of it’s red band. He released inside her.
He raised himself off of the woman. She pushed herself up onto her elbows, pulling her legs in. She smirked, and in one quick movement, had veiled her nudity with that damned twisted metal covering, and stood, all her dignity and arrogance in tact.
He righted himself, standing as well. The two looked at one another for a brief moment, before she spoke.
“The next time we meet, it will not be so pleasurable, my love.”
She took two steps backward to the entrance of an alley way, and with a great leap backwards, was gone.
He was left alone with his thoughts. It was almost as though the encounter had never happened, though a dull throb in his loins suggested otherwise. He smirked, and turned to leave the way he came.
A single thought stopped him dead in his tracks.
Not once, had Lucrecia crossed his mind.
-fin-
~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~
Weird. Fucked up. I know. My boyfriend and I are cosplaying Rosso and Vincent next year, so it was an interesting way to explore the dynamic between these two characters. Reviews always appreciated.