“There's nothing like the feel of hot flesh sucking the cum from your cock while the sweating body under you writhes and moans.”
The deep and masculine midnight velvet voice whispering in Vincent's ear burned across his dreams, rasped against his soul, and lifted the hairs all over his body. He jolted awake in the darkness.
A gently luminescent face of carved angelic beauty with cat-slitted green eyes, wearing a demonic grin complete with fangs, was only inches from his face. Long silver hair rose from a high widow's peak and fell to cloak impossibly wide shoulders, then tumbled down the elegant curve of his leather suited spine to spill over both the sides of the bed.
Massive wings arched from his shoulders, but only the left wing was actually visible; the feathers black and edged in steel gray. The right wing was barely more than the outline of a shadow. During his days as a living man, neither wing had possessed enough substance to be visible to the human eye, but they'd been there all the same. They were the secret behind the spectacular soaring leaps he'd been famed for.
Once upon a time, Sephiroth had been a war hero, then a mad man. Now he was a ghost. A ghost made of nearly pure life-stream energy that gave him far more substance than any ghost should ever possess.
And he was straddling Vincent's hips with a hard-on pressing intently against Vincent's belly. Only a thin layer of leather, the cotton sheet and the loose pants Vincent had slept in, separated them.
He winked. “Miss me?”
Vincent grabbed for the pale throat with his leather-gloved left hand while reaching up with his right for the tri-barreled Cerberus pistol he kept tucked between the mattress and the box-spring.
The dark angel gasped and grabbed Vincent's gloved wrist with both hands. He forced it down to the mattress.
Vincent's fingers scrabbled between the tucked sheets. It wasn't there. The gun wasn't there.
“Looking for that?” The black angel pointed clear across the cramped room to the pile of packing crates. On the top cases a brass filigreed pistol gleamed in a patch of moonlight. Right next to it was a delicately jointed and clawed gold titanium glove. “You look so sweet when you're sleeping; so unlike the real you.”
Vincent twisted hard, shoving to get out from under his all too real nightmare. Damn it! Why had he gone to sleep practically naked?
The hard muscular weight straddling Vincent's hips shifted and powerful fingers dug into his shoulders and shoved him back down into the bed-sheets. “Oh, no, no, no, no…” The chuckle was dark and sensual. “I prefer you like this, on your back.”
Vincent glared at him. “You're dead, damn you!”
The demonic angel rolled his eyes and snorted. “You said that last time, and the time before that. Can't you think of something new?”
Vincent dug his heels in and bucked to throw the hard muscular body off. “Get off me, you bastard!” The bed shuddered under them. “Get off!”
“That's not new either.” The man above him shifted smoothly with Vincent's movements, his wings mantling over them both, and remained stubbornly seated right where he was. He chuckled. “You know, it never ceases to amaze me how a man twice my age can look like someone still in their twenties.” He ground his hips against Vincent's. “And feel like one too.”
Vincent grabbed the forearms holding him down and brought his knees up in an attempt to get his feet under him enough to flip the larger man off.
Sephiroth leaned forward, out of foot range and pressed his full weight down on Vincent's shoulders. “Mmm, yeah, right against my dick. Do that some more.”
Vincent fell back against the sheets gasping for breath. On his feet he had speed and dexterity on anything that moved, but he wasn't on his feet, he was flat on his back. Sephiroth's longer body, greater weight, and sheer physical power, gave the dark angel every advantage. Add to that Sephiroth's full decade more of battlefield combat experience, most of it hand to hand. Brute strength alone obviously wasn't going to work.
Vincent had only had one weapon left, but he needed to get the leather glove off his left hand to use it. “How did you get in here?”
The black angel's silver brows rose. “Okay, that's new. The window curtains were wide open, and there you were sleeping so sweetly in a pool of moonlight. How could I resist?”
Vincent glanced toward the window. The sash was up and the screen was nothing but shreds. He couldn't believe he'd slept so hard that he hadn't heard the sound of the window opening, not to mention the screen being ripped out. He couldn't believe that no one else sleeping in the small farmhouse hadn't heard it either.
Vincent glared at Sephiroth. “What did you do?” He eased his hands above his head and close together.
Sephiroth watched his movements and snorted. “Nothing fatal; merely a very simple sleep haze. Apparently your power-limiter isn't running.” He smiled, showing pointed teeth.
Vincent sucked in a breath. The power limiter
wasn't running. Not since late last night. Cid had been fighting with it all day. Something had sucked the power-core dry. “You?”
Sephiroth shrugged. “The core made a nice snack.”
Vincent frowned. The power limiter's outer barrier kept energy-fused monsters at bay by draining life-force. It would knock a normal man unconscious, but Sephiroth was made of nearly pure energy. It should have ripped him apart. “How'd you pass the barrier to get to the core?”
Sephiroth grinned. “My secret and I'm not telling.”
Vincent growled low in his chest. Without knowing how he'd done it, they couldn't prevent it from happening again. “You could have killed us!” His fingers hooked under the edge of the long leather glove covering his left forearm.
Sephiroth rolled his cat-green eyes and curled his lip. “Oh dear, I could have caused the deaths--” A powerful liquid growl rolled from him. “--Of all those that caused
mine.”
Vincent growled right back, and peeled the leather glove from his left arm. “You caused your own death, you fucking psychopath!” He threw the glove and swung his bare right fist at the grinning mouth.
The demonic angel grabbed Vincent's fist and slammed it back down against the mattress. “That was weak, Vincent.”
Vincent used that momentum to bring up his left hand, the one that wasn't human, the one he normally kept gloved to the elbow to hide the fact that it was barely made of flesh at all. Thanks to the monstrosity Hojo had grafted to his soul, his hand and just about his entire forearm crackled with the black lightning of elemental negative chaos. The clearly non-human fingers were tipped in curved black claws of raw power that he raked at the dark angel's face. He was done playing.
Sephiroth twisted sharply, bringing up his elbow to save his face.
Vincent's claws raked down his shoulder and arm burning right through the ghost's flesh of nearly pure life-stream energy. Smoke curled and a lock of long silver hair fell to the wooden floor to disintegrate.
Sephiroth gasped in obvious pain and rolled to the side.
Vincent came up on his knees and raised his black hand again. The sheet fluttered off the bed. Unless he invoked the other side of his soul, his hand did no more to ordinary matter, such as living flesh, than any other clawed hand might. However, against something infused with energy as Sephiroth was, his hand was pure acid.
“Ow! Fuck!” Sephiroth scowled at the long ragged tears down his arm. “That hurt, you shit!” The gouges crackled with diminutive green lightning and resealed before Vincent's eyes.
Vincent hissed.
Crap… That was bad. His hand should have shredded that damned ghost like paper, not just torn holes in him. Son of a bitch, he really
was weak.
Sephiroth's gaze narrowed at Vincent. “I forgot Hojo made additions.” He grabbed the pillow and ripped off the pillowcase. “What a nasty little surprise.” He lunged.
Vincent rolled to get off the bed.
The dark angel caught Vincent by the ankle. “Oh, no you don't…!” He jerked, dragging Vincent back to the center of the bed. Grabbing on to Vincent's hip, he pulled hard and forcibly flipped him over onto his back.
Vincent kicked out hard, but the soft mattress was not a good surface for any kind of leverage. The bed shook under them. “Leave me alone!” He raked out with his black hand again. “Go bother somebody else!”
The dark angel blocked Vincent's black claws with an out-flung arm. “I'd love too.” Ignoring the resulting gauges, he sprawled on top of Vincent, pinning his struggling body. “But I need you.” He grabbed for Vincent's black wrist with both gloved hands. Smoke curled between his fingers. He hissed and hastily wrapped the pillowcase around Vincent's hand and arm. “And I'm running out of time.”
Vincent pounded on the dark angel's back with his free fist and fought to twist from Sephiroth's grasp. “Blame Hojo, damn it! He's the one that did it to both of us!”
“Oh, I do.” Sephiroth pinned both of Vincent's wrists above his head. His lip curled showing the full length of his upper and lower fangs. “I blame Hojo every single waking moment I possess, then and now.”
“Let me go!” Vincent released a snarl, one from the darker side of his soul. “I'm not your damned…!”
Sephiroth's mouth crashed down onto Vincent's.
Caught in mid-shout, Vincent's mouth was wide open.
Warm breath filled his mouth and fangs closed on his tongue, but didn't pierce.
Vincent froze. He really, really didn't want his tongue bitten.
The tongue that went with the fangs slid across his in a sensual dance.
Vincent tasted aroused flesh and blood male laced with raw elemental energy. He had no idea how a ghost could taste so…alive, never mind have a hard-on, but he did. Unwanted heat speared him in the belly and tightened his balls. He groaned in denial, and hunger. The darker half of his soul was hungry, and Sephiroth tasted of everything it wanted.
Hard muscle wrapped in butter-soft, sleek, black leather rocked against him, blatantly rubbing against his belly and chest, tightening his nipples. A rigid cock trapped behind leather pressed hard against his crotch.
The blood emptied from Vincent's head, to rush straight down at mind-shattering speed. His cock filled and hardened. He couldn't stop it anymore than he could stop his spine from arching up to press for more, or the ragged moan that rolled from his throat.
Sephiroth raised his head, releasing Vincent's mouth. “That's more like it.” He licked his lips and his eyes narrowed. “However, your energy level is very low. Too low; I can barely taste it. You haven't been feeding from the life-stream.”
Vincent fought to string two thoughts together. “Because some blond ass-hole is haunting it.”
Sephiroth rolled his eyes. “You'd rather starve than…?” He sighed out a breath. “Stubborn idiot, I don't take that much from you.”
Vincent shifted, but Sephiroth hadn't let up on his wrists. He was hungry, but he wasn't starving, not really. It was just that hunting down energy-fused monsters to consume their souls, was far more difficult and time-consuming, than simply moon-bathing in a life-stream flow at the top of a mountain.
Sex was the only other option. Orgasm actually fed him better than death, but he was just too non-human in appearance to attract a woman for his needs. Most people took one look at his scarlet eyes and started screaming, then shooting, never mind the fangs. Heaven help him if they ever saw his left hand.
“It's not your blood-drinking that bothers me. It's that you want to ass-fuck me too.” Not to mention that doing anything beneficial for the world's greatest atrocity, was not high on his priority list. He seriously doubted Cloud, or any of the others, would take it very well either.
Unfortunately his darker side didn't give a rat's ass about anything other than the fact that Sephiroth tasted like food. That he was offering it through sex only made the situation worse. He hadn't had a decent fuck in…in a really long time.
Sephiroth snorted. “You sound like a nervous virgin.”
Vincent bared his teeth. “Well, I
am one, and I'd like to stay that way, thank you very much!”
“Is that so?” Sephiroth leaned over him, his lips a kiss away. His free hand reached down and slid right under the elastic waistband of Vincent's pants. A hot hand closed around his cock. Long nails pressed against his balls.
Vincent's breath stopped, and his heart nearly did too. Every thought in his head evaporated to focus on his pulse beating in Sephiroth's hand. He sucked in a breath and moaned it back out.
The demonic angel smiled. “Liar.” He pulled his hand out and licked it with a long pointed pink tongue. “You're so hard for me you're seeping cum.”
Vincent kicked out. “Just leave me alone!”
Sephiroth grabbed his ankle, pulled, and then shoved hard, turning Vincent completely over onto his belly. “No.”
Vincent gasped into his pillow.
His hands were free just long enough for the demonic angel to straddle Vincent's legs, trapping them. Serpent quick, he grabbed Vincent's cloth-wrapped, black hand and twisted, jerking it up into the small of Vincent's back.
Vincent groaned. He'd forgotten just how fast and strong the bastard really was.
Sephiroth forced Vincent's other arm behind him, and pinned both wrists together. “I came to find you because I hadn't seen you for the past two full moons.”
Vincent winced. Sephiroth was having far too easy a time doing this. He was a lot weaker than he'd thought. “Let me guess, you're hungry.”
“That too.”
Vincent heard an odd click and then something sliding against something else. What the hell was the psychotic blond doing? Broad leather enclosed his wrists.
Crap! He bucked, but with his legs pinned, he couldn't move much at all. The strap of what could only be a leather belt continued to wind around his wrists. “What the hell are you doing?”
“I can't even feel your wings, never mind see them, so I'm assuming that your energy level is too low to allow flight.”
Vincent scowled into the pillow. His wings were only truly visible when he invoked the other side of his soul, which was something he tried to avoid. However, unlike Sephiroth's, his wings retained enough substance to allow for true short-distance flight even though the human eye couldn't see them. Normally anyway… Unfortunately, the bastard was right. His energy level was too low to give his wings any substance what so ever. He hadn't felt their weight on his shoulders for the past week. “So what…?”
“I wouldn't want you to struggle and fall.”
“Fall…?”
A knock sounded on the bedroom door at the foot of the bed. “Vincent?” The voice was youthful, masculine, and deep. “Vincent, are you all right in there?”
Vincent froze. It was Cloud.
Crap!
Sephiroth didn't even flinch. He leaned down close to Vincent's ear and kept winding the belt around Vincent's wrists. “Oh how nice! I haven't seen Cloud since the day I died.” He knotted the ends, tightly.
Cloud knocked a little louder. “Vincent, can I come in?”
Could he come in and see his worst enemy who was supposed to be dead, in his friend's bed engaged in what could only be some sort of kinky sex game?
“No, don't!” Vincent twisted hard to kneel up on the bed. “I'm okay, really!”
Sephiroth grabbed Vincent by the upper arms and obligingly turned him to face the door, then shifted to kneel behind Vincent.
“Are you sure?”
“I'm fine Cloud.” Vincent jerked at his arms. They didn't budge. Sephiroth had done a thorough job of tying him. “Go back to bed.”
The black angel wrapped his arms about Vincent's waist, pulling Vincent back between his spread knees and onto his lap, against his hard-on. He breathed against Vincent's ear. “You sure you don't want him to come in and join us?” He set his chin on Vincent's shoulder, and smiled.
“I thought I heard voices?” Cloud's voice dropped a hair deeper.
“It's just me--” Vincent turned and glared at Sephiroth. “Dealing with a nightmare.”
Sephiroth chuckled and then whispered. “Oh, now that was just cold.”
Vincent bared his fangs and whispered back. “Truth hurts.”
“Is that so?” Sephiroth grabbed a handful of Vincent's long black hair at the base of his neck, then jerked his head back and up.
Vincent gasped and came up on his knees, arching back against the taller man's broad chest.
“Vincent?” The doorknob rattled.
Vincent's blood ran cold. He sucked in a hard breath. “Don't come in!”
The demonic angel reached down and jerked Vincent's loose pants down to his knees. Vincent's cock sprang free in a rigid curve that reached for his navel. Sephiroth's breath washed against the edge of Vincent's ear. “I think we should let Cloud in.” He gently raked his long nails down Vincent's belly. “And show him the truth of how you really feel about me.” Sephiroth's hot hand closed on the base of Vincent's cock, and slid upward from root to head.
Urgency rushed through him, dribbled, and dripped over the hand clasped around him. Vincent released a soft gasping moan before he could stop himself.
“Vincent!” The door thumped. “Vincent, what's going on in there?”
Sephiroth's hot tongue swept along the curve of Vincent's ear. His breath drew shivers. “Your choice. You can be good and come with me right now, or we can wait for Cloud to break down the door.”
Vincent froze. Come with him…?
“Personally, I think letting Cloud catch you with my dick jammed up your ass would do him a world of good.”
“Vincent!” The door thumped and rattled in its frame. “Open the door!”
Vincent couldn't see any way out of this. He wasn't strong enough to fight off Sephiroth, and he couldn't allow Cloud catch him dallying with the world's greatest disaster. “Fine, I'll go.”
“Done.” Sephiroth threw out a long booted leg and slid off the bed in one smooth movement. He grabbed Vincent by the forearms, and dragged him to the edge of the bed on his knees.
Vincent's loose pants slid completely off his legs, and there wasn't a damned thing he could do about it. “Crap!”
“Up we go…” Sephiroth ducked and heaved Vincent over his shoulder like a rolled rug.
"Whoa…!” Vincent kicked out in reflex.
A hard hand slapped his naked ass, loudly. “Don't fight me. I don't want to drop you.” He didn't bother to lower his voice.
“Vincent, who's in there?” A heavy weight slammed into the door. The wood splintered, but held, just barely.
Sephiroth turned back and his brows lifted. “Good quality wood.”
Vincent snarled. “I have it `spelled' against intrusion. Move your ass, damn you!”
Sephiroth chuckled darkly. “With pleasure.” In two long heavy strides he was at the window and easing one leg over the edge. The feathers of his one massive wing rustled as they passed through the cramped opening.
The door crashed open. Cloud rushed into the room with one of his huge swords gleaming in his hands. “Vincent!”
Slung over a black leather-clad shoulder, Vincent stared straight into Cloud's ice-blue gaze, then noticed all the long white hair still trailing over the windowsill, and the disappearing black feathers scattered on the floor.
Then he was falling.
Then he wasn't falling, but rising so fast he could barely breathe. Icy wind scoured his skin until it burned.
Sephiroth's wings whooshed propelling them up into the moon bright night sky, one clearly visible and the other merely a semi-transparent shadow edged in starlight. The town below became the size of a child's toy at an ungodly speed. The air thinned.
Naked and chilled to the bone, Vincent gasped for breath in the frigid wind. He'd never flown this high, or this fast. The red sash that covered his brow unraveled and fluttered away. His long black mane spilled into his eyes.
The dark angel continued to rise.
Vincent's breath left him, and consciousness fled with it.
~ * ~
DIABOLIC on Ao3:
https://archiveofourown.org/works/1145679/chapters/2319998
