Final Fantasy - All Series Fan Fiction ❯ A Real Transformation ❯ Love Potion #3 ( Chapter 3 )

He was enjoying himself. Vincent was beautiful. Pale skin sweating, glossy hair, thick, plastered to his back and shoulders. He had been finding fights in the slums for the better part of the night. When dawn was rising, he finally made his way towards ShinRa HQ where the upper class and the better neighborhoods were settled. Sephiroth had slept a few hours, nodding off despite wanting to watch his angel closely and not miss a single breath. Now Vincent was headed for a bathing facility. Luxurious showers, baths, and swimming pool sized baths consisted of the stark white, pristine bathing facility. As soon as he established that that was where Vincent was headed, he decided to follow, jumping from his perch, a couch atop a car. He was cold from having slept outside, even with his warm protective clothing. Vincent had enough for a common, public bath, which Sephiroth was more than fine with.

 

A tweaked potion had been sent to him that very morning, Hojo having already started working on it as soon as he had given Sephiroth the second trial version. After contacting Hojo, he found the man was busy hypothesizing and tweaking yet another version. He said he was making good ground though. <i>He said.</I> Sephiroth wondered if the man ever slept, and that even if he didn't, how he could possibly be watching for side effects and creating potions at the same time. It just didn't work that way. As long as he was getting closer to the desired reaction, it didn't really matter to him. He did wonder how long it would take, but he wasn't complaining or asking questions. He liked toying with Vincent, so long as it remained interesting. If he got bored he'd stalk somewhere else and threaten Hojo to give up his games lest he wish for a brutal, slow, and torturous death.

 

Not knowing how long Vincent was planning on staying, the general gave him a few moments to settle himself into the no doubt steaming bath before entering himself. Confident he knew where his ebony haired angel was, he entered the large public bath, several stone heads spouting water in the shape of chocobos. A thin mist of steam levitated atop the water before fading into cooler air. Declothing himself he left everything on a nearby bench, lingering at the potion. He thought about emptying it in the bath but there were a couple others there and he wasn't sure he wanted to risk getting himself sick. Instead, if it was as potent as Hojo claimed, he could say, approach the brunette as he was now, feet slapping against the wet tiles, eyes almost mesmerized with thick, wet black hair pulling down his back, pale hair streaming, slightly pink from the heat, ruby eyes magnified in color despite the somewhat dim lighting. Walking around the edge to where Vincent sat, he noticed his attention was caught, sending the vampire mumbling under the bubbles and seeming to resign himself. If he had been a Turk he would have dealt with everything in a better way, but when he had lost his humanism, he had lost his pride.

 

Stepping down into the hot water, he hissed, sliding down near Vincent. Relaxing he set the potion down on the tiled surface, cold compared to the water. Stretching out, completely relaxed he allowed himself to soak, sore muscles in heaven, before eventually opening his eyes to meet a curious look, blood red eyes hinting annoyance. He was hugging his knees, as if protecting his body from Sephiroth's endlessly roving eyes.

 

“You're amazing,” Sephiroth observed with a smirk, shamelessly letting perturbing eyes rake over the porcelain doll before him. Vincent shrugged away from his outreaching hand, as if wanting to melt away from any touch.

 

“What do you want with me?” his voice had risen from a quiet, sullen rage to a low level outburst, eyes fiery.

 

“ Well whatever I want you won't let me show you.” Sephiroth's smirk widened as Vincent shrank back, eyes almost alarmed. It was true the general found the darkling oddly fascinating, as if they had some connection to each other via Hojo's experimentations, even if they could never be related through blood. For now, he just wanted to toy with him, and he didn't particularly care if the brunette got hurt or not; it didn't affect his mission. Besides, just knowing he had the power to make Hojo bend to his whim or control Vincent was a wickedly sweet deal. Just the thought of making his vampire writhe beneath him was inspiring for success and ego-boosting.

 

He didn't think much past his simple wants and desires. His attraction to Vincent did seem a little peculiar, especially knowing that the ex Turk had been there about the time he was born.

 

When the general continued to press Vincent closer, keeping him to the wall, Vincent couldn't help but speak up, angrily, despite his soft voice.

  "Why do you keep following me Sephiroth?  Something's up and I know it.  I wasn't a Turk for nothing.  You want me for something and you won't tell me what."  It was the most the mysterious man had spoken in a long time and it almost caught Sephiroth off his guard, though his sea green eyes remained amused.

  "What makes you think that now, Vincent?" he inquired, raising a brow and he cuddled closer the pinned man at the corner of the bath.

  "I'm not stupid Sephiroth, I know you're up to something."  His eyes wandered to the seemingly forgotten bottle of liquid.

  "What's that for?" he nodded, eyes almost fearful towards the blue tinged substance.

  "Shampoo."  It was almost an evasive answer, obviously not the consistency for shampoo.  Hojo said the potion could be absorbed but it probably wouldn't be as potent.  Nonetheless, if he managed to accidentally get it in Vincent's face it should speed the process of absorption and digestion up.  Once he reached for the bottle,. giving enough room for Vincent to slip by, but not a second's chance in order to do so, he uncapped the slightly fragrant substance.  He was only lucky it had something of an aromatic smell to it.

Its consistency was thicker than water but not nearly enough to be considered shampoo; if it congealed it might be an odd sort of conditioner but nonetheless he doubted if he could fool the older and wiser man--unless he could supply his actions quickly enough not to be questioned.  With that thought in mind he quickly poured a dollop in his hands, turning to face Vincent and reaching for ebony hair, still wet from him having been submerged.  Although he retracted at once, recoiling from the thought of having someone so near, be it Sephiroth or otherwise, he couldn't avoid the opposing figure before him.

  "Sephiroth."  It was a warning as the general massaged the potion into the ex Turk's scalp, pouring the rest on.  If he had known whether it was volatile or not or if it had any reaction to being put under stresses other than being consumed, he didn't know.  He got so much as a froth but not near enough for suds.

  "Just relax and enjoy it," Sephiroth said casually with a grin.  It seemed to be staining his hair, giving the highlights where light reflected a blue, almost violet sheen.  He smelled somewhat enticing too, and, as he had planned, he managed to get a good bit running down Vincent's bowed face, lips pursed.

  "Watch it!" he almost snarled, the liquid avoiding his eyes but quickly dribbling to frame his lips and chin.

    Sephiroth shrugged an apology, continuing to work with blue hue tinged fingers, hoping the stuff absorbed as quickly as it seemed to have in the past.  If it washed out it probably be useless, with the amount of dilution it had in the bath.  Several long moments later Vincent was on edge, batting Sephiroth's hands away.  He was wary of the power the swordsman held over him, his much larger frame shadowing his own, but he wasn't scared of him, no.  It would be much the same to give a malboro some distance, but still know you have some level of authority over it.

  "Ok you've had your fun.  Leave me be.  Stop following me unless you can give me a straightforward answer!"  With that he ducked under Sephiroth's arm, squeezing through the opening and wading far away, rinsing his hair out and thoroughly glaring in the general's direction.  So the darkling didn't want to be bothered unless Sephiroth had some plausible reason?  Well sure he had reason, plenty of it.  He was captivated as violet tinged raven hair clung to narrow shoulders, body porcelain white and streamlined with water, slick and glowing with radiant heat, body lined with a faint pink scar here or there, ruby eyes searching, brooding, his narrow hips swaying as he walked.  He looked womanly from behind but the slenderness of his hips and the slightly broader shoulders said otherwise.  His legs were shapely, though Sephiroth doubted the man could hitch a ride showing one off, leading all the way to his sweet little ass. shapely though the pants he wore often didn't accentuate them nearly as much as one could desire.

    Leaning back, hands behind his head he grinned, though he worried some the potion might not have worked.  He'd have to watch from an extension to the cameras in Vincent's room.  After wallowing the warmness of the tub, taking his sweet time, allowing Vincent ample time to quickly gather his things and flit off to the shadows to be enveloped, seemingly to travel through then, not in a three-dimensional form but perhaps on another plane, only to be spat out at any other place whenever he wished.  The general eventually had to take leave, for his complexion was getting pruny with all the water his body was soaking  up, and so he too gathered his things as if to follow the long gone shadow of the man he was stalking.  He dried and clothed himself in short order before returning outside to the day that had warmed up to mid-morning, the sky still pale and threatening to snow at almost any time.  Winter would rage on in Midgar only for a short time, even though snow was uncommon; the cold winds and drafts that blew by furiously were more than convincing enough that Shiva herself was coming for a visit.

    The weather was the exact opposite in spring and summer, the heat and humidity being unbearably hot, and not dry in the least.  People who were crazy enough to be outside at noon could fry eggs, dripping sweat with only a few steps of venturing, anything that could retain heat as hot and unforgiving as Ifrit's flesh. Vincent, usually being the nocturnal on—though sporadically indecisive as to whether he'd wander to his house or not—made it easy enough for Sephiroth to follow his movements. He more or less depended on the fact that the darkling was an entity of the night, and so, it being day, Vincent had sheltered himself from the squalid neighborhood of Midgar and the ruthless sun, breaking a sweat while the cold wind diagnosed an ear-ache from its constant whispering. Inside his little apartment, the vampire scrounged around to cook something up to eat, the taps already half frozen, only a trickle of less than clean water dribbling forth miserably and lethargically.

 

With a pitiful excuse for a dinner, hardly even a snack, Sephiroth had to scoff and shake his head. He'd give Vincent a real dinner. Watching from his outside extension he was settled in nicely along the length of a leather sofa in the lounge room of an upscale bar and pool house. His nice little piece of technology was one of the more advanced functions ShinRa had to offer, even though his had intentionally `borrowed' it and found he liked it so much no one else would miss it. It was a hand held device that looked something like a calculator with a wide screen for viewing. It was used to spy on people or pick up signals to virtually anything that traveled via waves. True it could get static and crossed signals but it was rather could at picking up a specific frequency and staying with it. Along with that and wireless control, it was something like a mini computer and data holder, very nifty indeed with secretary functions, password control and quite a bit of memory. He was glad he was able to tap into the wires set up in Vincent's home and connect to them wirelessly so he could Vincent. He much preferred to watch him in person but nonetheless, he wouldn't be<i> too</i> choosey.

 

For awhile, Vincent stalked about his apartment in something of a mesmer, but it didn't seem to be anything but self-induced. He gave a small sigh as he set to cleaning up the rooms as best he could, though there wasn't much to be done, and with the poor water quality it mattered little. The pale man then settled onto his couch-sized bed, curled up in fresh clothing and dozed off, slumbering softly and not once moving from his position for several hours. In his boredom, Sephiroth eventually gave up watching Vincent, contacting Hojo instead.

 

“Nothing seems to be happening,” the scientist observed, the general nonchalant over the PHS.

 

“Not sure if it might or not; I couldn't get him to take it orally. He suspects something but I don't know how much,” the silver haired man replied.

 

“Well why not? What happened then?”

 

“I followed him to the bath house and to alleviate any suspicion I said it was a shampoo. You said it could be absorbed but…. As far as I can tell the best it did was turn his hair a purplish color.” Sephiroth had to grin at the thought. Hojo sighed, voice getting a little snappier.

 

“I've been working at a better version, despite your screw up. With further knowledge of the human brain, I'm hoping to perfect this experiment soon. If you can get things straight, it should work perfectly, maybe a touch or two here or there.”

 

Sephiroth glared at the phone when the insult of him screwing up bit into him.

 

“Nevertheless I have been bogged down with a few things from the President so it should be several days until I can get another version finished. I'll always be on.”

 

“Are you sure Vincent's the best one to test this on?” Sephiroth inquired, mind straying to thoughts of Vincent's several forms of limit break, when he became harder and harder to control. Hojo paused as if silently daring Sephiroth to insult his specimen.

 

“Vincent should be fine. He still had enough human hormones and pheromones and whatnot to induce the reaction we would like. His mind should do well enough to bend towards the final product we desire. Sephiroth, I will send someone else to you as soon as I can with the potion. This time, make sure Vincent consumes it! I want to watch this one closely to see where it will lead.”

 

“Yeah yeah ok. Tell me again why you can't use one of the lab departments at the Headquarters here in Midgar?” Sephiroth asked, almost mockingly, Hojo again referring and daring to say Sephiroth, the first class soldier, had screwed up. The maniacal scientist sighed in exasperation, as if the answer should have been as simple as two plus two.

 

“Because, Sephiroth,” he impatiently supplied, “the lab here is much better. The solitude also allows me sufficient room to carry out the experiment without anyone asking about it. Now then, I have a chemical equation regarding the balance of oxytocin and dihydrotetosterone that I need to tend to.” He hung up without waiting for a response. Cursing the scientist, Sephiroth settled back into the sofa with a huff, glancing around the room to glare at anyone who might be watching him, despite being one of the few there aside from those who worked to maintain the business and upkeep of the place. Flipping the PHS closed he pocketed it, wondering how he would keep himself busy the next few days.