Final Fantasy - All Series Fan Fiction ❯ A Real Transformation ❯ Love Potion #6 ( Chapter 6 )

[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]

Vincent runs into more trouble, with both Adrian and Sephiroth. What's the poor guy to do? When he's dugged up with Hojo's love potions, there's not much else he CAN do except go with the flow.

Non Anime: Final Fantasy - All Series Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Shounen / Angst / Romance | Type: Shounen-ai | Uploaded On: 11.05.2006 | Pages: 7 | Words: 11.0K | Visits: 317 | Status: Completed

Vincent woke up once in the middle of the night with a loud moan. He was incredibly aroused, but he couldn't remember dreaming anything. Moaning once more, he rolled over and onto his back, eyes finally focusing on…the darkness. He didn't know where he was, and so he lay very still, tensed, before fighting the covers to sit up. He was in a bed. A very large bed, and certainly not his. He was still in his clothes but they clung to his body with sweat. Vaguely remembering that he was in Sephiroth's suite he fearfully turned to either side but noticed the first class solider was not in the room. Settling down from his initial alarm, he relaxed more, closing his eyes and focusing more on his problem at hand. He was achingly hard, and not something he could just ignore. Beneath the safety of the covers, though still tentative at revealing his vulnerability, he brushed against his trapped erection, shuddering and arching into his cupped hand with a whimper, cheeks flushed. He breathed raggedly, wantonly desiring to thrust into his hand, to free his heated body. But still, it was several long moments before he advanced his touches, not wanting to reveal himself entirely in case a sudden situation occurred that would need the use of his hands and his wits.

He distantly thought of using Sephiroth's bathroom, but by then he was too far gone with stroking himself, through his jeans to want to get up. He undid the button on his pants, suppressing a moan, though not for long, once cool slender fingers encased his already slick manhood. He whimpered, moaned, wiggled, and writhed on Sephiroth's bed in contortions of pleasure. Before he could think to throw the covers off him in order to avoid making a mess in Sephiroth's bed he was already coming into his hand with a shudder, a stuttering cry leaving his lips. He felt like he had no discretion: however loud he was showed the climax of his pleasure, and so if he woke the entire hotel, so be it. Panting, he rested a moment before weakly standing up. Stumbling, he looked about the room, his eyes more adjusted. The bathroom was off to his left. Making towards his refuge, he flicked on the lights as he closed the door. He was still tired, sure, but he was awake and alert enough not to mind.

Despite whatever it was, he started a shower, wiping his hands on his shirt without thinking, and discarding his clothing on the floor. The bathroom was rather large and spacious, and he had more than enough room in the shower. Settled under the hot spray, he sighed happily. Vincent thought back to his pitiful excuse for a home, and how his pipes were frozen over, and that even when they weren't, such as in the spring, he still only received about a bucket full of water, and it was cold at that. Using what he had in the shower stall, the hygienic things supplied by the hotel, he sighed in satisfaction. His hair a glossy black, the shampoo that had tinged it purple having been washed out and faded. He ran a soaped up sponge across his body, and when he reached his genitals, he shivered under his own touch, a fiery lust stirring once more. By the time he had finished washing himself he couldn't ignore his body's wants any longer, so once he had taken himself in one hand, leaning on the wall's railing for support, he reached fever pitch.

He whined and moaned in sexual frustration as he pumped hard against his body. It had been so long since he felt any kind of lust, especially a stirring so deep inside, like an animalistic heat. He stroked himself until he was spent, sliding down the side of the shower stall and sitting in a puddle on the warm marbled floor as he regained his bearings, the water showering his head like rain. He felt a contentedness stealing over him and his eyes felt heavy. It was nice and hot in the shower and he could have easily fallen asleep, but no, he wanted to crawl back into the bed, vaguely hoping he hadn't left a mess for Sephiroth to discover, though he doubted the meticulousness of his ejaculation.

Washing himself off once more, he stepped out into the cool air, reluctant to leave the steam filled bathroom for the much cooler bedroom. Pulling a soft cotton towel from a rack, he dried himself off slowly, lazily in his want of sleep. What time was it again? By the time he finished, he realized he had no clean clothing. Cursing to himself and blanching at the thought that he might end up sleeping naked, he half wondered if he could sneak away and find clean clothing in his own house. No, that option wasn't very feasible, and not a smart move, what with the snow falling outside. What about his cloak? Was it still on the bed? Flicking off the lights and taking it for his best bet, aside from seeing if Sephiroth had any oversized clothing to steal, the ex Turk peeked out from the dark bathroom, letting his eyes adjust first.

After a long moment's hesitation, he crept into the room with all the stealth of the well trained. Creeping up to the bed in silence he found his cloak near the foot of the bed. Wrapping it about his pink body, he covered himself, glad that it kept him warm, obscured him better in the dark, and served as clothing. Turning back to the bed, he made himself comfortable under the covers. Exhaling softly through his nose he lay curled on his side, eyes closed blissfully, body limp. He was half asleep when strong arms encircled his waist, pulling him closer to a larger frame.

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Sephiroth had been sitting in a dark corner, watching Vincent while he slept. Sure he was tired, but he was brought from his dozing when he Vincent began to toss and turn in his sleep. He knew the raven haired man was awake when he bolted upright, looking around fearfully. His display in bed, and the one Sephiroth heard but couldn't watch through the bathroom door had fiercely aroused him, and so he had unsheathed himself from clothing, shedding them to the chair he sat upon, save his pants, which he left modestly on in case Vincent decided to be stubborn. Sephiroth had crawled in the bed, awaiting the vampire's return, and so he had. He would have sought some rough play from him, hoping to sway the older man and abusing his weakness, but he was too late, especially after Vincent's two rounds had sapped his strength.

So when Vincent had walked from the bathroom, rather alert though still managing to miss the swordsman in the bed completely, he covered himself with his cloak and made to sleep. Sephiroth had startled Vincent and he froze in the larger man's grip, but that took too much energy. Energy that Vincent did not have. He could have figured it was Sephiroth. Was drawn face and an abated blush, glad that he had decided upon wearing at least his cloak, he pulled the fabric close to his body, hiding all openings the younger man might find and sneak into. The first class soldier's head nestled at the back of Vincent's neck, damp hair fragrant and cool on his cheek. His pants felt painful, pressed against Vincent, but he had been through worse, and he could resist. Besides, sleep was calling, and if he had done anything it would have been half-hearted. And so, holding onto Vincent, he fell asleep, quite comfortably.

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He awoke with empty arms, though it had been more or less expected. Sephiroth hadn't put all, or even a good amount of his faith in Vincent after all, but he was disappointed. Sighing and sitting up, he needed a trip to the bathroom for a couple of reasons. The grey dawn shone through any window that wasn't covered by curtains. It was chilly in his room and he stifled a yawn as he pulled on his long woolen coat, entering the kitchen area that doubled as a lounge. Opening his fridge, he withdrew a carton on milk, drinking directly from it and nearly choking when Vincent's lone figure was caught from the corner of his eye. Wiping his mouth on the back of one hand, he replaced the cold milk, stalking towards the ex Turk's inert form. He was perched on the ledge by the window where he had been the night before, and upon looking over his face, pale with frigidness, he appeared to be asleep, wrapped in his cloak and lips tinged blue. The swordsman's curiosity peaked: Vincent had the chance to leave, and yet he was still here. He couldn't figure out why though.

Gently brushing his knuckles across a snow white cheek, Sephiroth shifted closer. Vincent felt so cold. His warm breath fogged the icy window he was pressed against. Turning his face away from the window, he gently positioned his arms around Vincent, cradling him as he picked him up, the ex Turk's arm trailing from the cloak. Jostling him slightly, Vincent did not wake as Sephiroth carried him back to the bed, nudging the blanket aside as he settled the limp body down on the mattress. The darkling was so cold. Intrigue getting the better of him, the silver haired swordsman gently parted Vincent's cloak, revealing a slender porcelain body. Raven hair was splashed about his face, his faint pink scar visibly traced down his chest, rosy nipples erect in the cold, soft face slack with innocent slumber, heavy dark lashes dusting his cheeks, and the bite of cold kissing his body with numbness. The brunette looked angelic, frozen, his pale skin cool and creamy. Sephiroth let his hand ghost down Vincent's scar, trailing to his belly and drawing away. The older man shivered.

Not really wanting Vincent to wake up, finding he was naked with Sephiroth looming over him, the swordsman properly covered him again, drawing the blankets around him. The vampire stirred, but it would be awhile before ruby eyes fluttered open.

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It was late morning by the time Vincent had finally awoken, stretching on the mattress and taking up a good part of the bed, rather comfortable considering sleeping on the ground outside was often more comfortable than his `bed' at his apartment. Face buried in a pillow, nice and warm under the covers, it took him a long and groggy moment before realizing that he wasn't asleep in the corner by the window but was indeed back in Sephiroth's bed. Looking up from where he lay, he noticed it was rather bright in the room, the light from the sun nearing its equinox shining through. Outside it flurried, the snow piled up a good foot or so. Looking around he noticed Sephiroth was not in immediate sight. In the bathroom? No the door stood open and he didn't hear noise emitting from it. The kitchen area? Perhaps.

Sitting up, his cloak still about him, he was confused. Sephiroth had moved him here. He didn't sleep walk, that he knew of, so how else could he have ended up there? Ruffling his long black hair and shaking the sleep away, he slid out of bed, eyeing the room as though looking for something. His clothing, he presumed, was still in the bathroom on the floor, dirty and not worthy of wearing unless Vincent was desperate. Pulling the fabric tighter, making sure to cover himself completely, he was nearly wearing the heavy material like a towel. If one hadn't have known better, they could have sworn the vampire was a woman. He didn't see Sephiroth. He had the perfect opportunity to run away, just as he had before. But instead of heading out the door and away from the hotel, his feet took him to the kitchen. Sephiroth stood, hands behind his back, legs shoulder width apart, straight backed and staring out a window at the scenery below.

He seemed to sense Vincent's presence, and though he didn't turn around, he spoke.

"Adrian is coming to see you, to see how things are." For a moment, the older man had no clue what was going on. Adrian? "He called on your cell phone, and after the first two missed calls I answered." Vincent could feel the swordsman's coy little smile. The cell phone sat, closed, on the kitchen table. Since when had Adrian gotten his number? Since when had he kept his phone long enough for someone to call? Since when did Sephiroth filch his belongings.

"I didn't really say anything. He just mistook me for you. You told me you didn't have a boyfriend." Sephiroth turned suddenly on his heel, folding his arms and leaning against the cold glass window, regarding Vincent with a somewhat amused expression. Didn't anyone understand that Vincent was his to toy with, and his alone? The darkling was at a loss for words, eyes perplexed, confused, still half asleep and trying to make sense of things, his mouth was agape. A knock was heard at the door. Wonderful timing. Briskly brushing past Vincent, Sephiroth smiled deviously, swinging the door open before their visitor could knock on the door again.

It was Adrian, and he seemed taken aback that it wasn't Vincent who had answered his call.

"Er..." He did have the right number, didn't he? Putting on a cool smile and brushing a long strand of dark chocolate hair out of his face, he politely asked if he had the right room.

"Is Vincent Valentine here, please?" Sephiroth looked the guy up and down. He was barely taller than Vincent, still no match for the general's height. At the very least, things should be amusing.

"Of course," Sephiroth replied, stepping aside, hand still on the knob, to let his guest in. Vincent's first instinct had been to flee to the bathroom and lock himself in, but of course Adrian would have seen he was there. The best he could do was press himself into the farthest corner of the room, in the kitchen, hiding himself under his cloak, snuggled next to the window and contemplating if falling from that height might possibly kill him. He could hear his boss being let in and a shiver ran down his spine. The soft sounds of Sephiroth's footfalls could be heard, muffled by carpet, louder when he hit the tile of the kitchen, Adrian at his heels.

He dreaded being near that man. It was different when he as alone and virtually helpless during work, but now he wasn't tending bar and Sephiroth was here even. The twisted swordsman wouldn't enjoy torturing him, would he. Ruby eyes were veiled, but shot quickly open as he heard quick steps being taken to approach him. Standing unexpectedly he moved fluidly to the side, his cloak trailing about him, and as soft and quiet as a shadow he evaded Adrian's grasp.

"Vincent," the brunette said, managing a smile to cover how startled he was that his love had fled from his grasp. Vincent made no sound, merely watching for movements at a distance, wary. Sephiroth stood in his defiant pose, watching carefully. He could tell Vincent didn't like this man, and as long as this so-called 'Adrian' was after Vincent, then Sephiroth didn't like him either. Adrian took a step towards Vincent, but the distance was kept between them, forcing the ex Turk back towards Sephiroth. He hadn't settled his feelings out for the silver haired man, and though his dash to the bathroom was destroyed by the fact that the tall, broad shouldered general stood near the kitchen doorway, Vincent still felt safer advancing towards him.

He would be forced to circle or else run into Sephiroth. Keeping one shoulder towards Adrian, he ended up side stepping next to Sephiroth, ruby eyes glancing to see the swordsman's reaction. Sephiroth smirked, even daring to place one arm around Vincent's shoulders, as though either keeping him from running or else pulling him close.

"Vincent, I've been worried about you." Adrian frowned slightly, brows creased in worry. He softly approached the pair, Vincent nearly huddled next to Sephiroth. He had his dignity, but he had his fears as well.

"I've been trying to call to see what's wrong but you won't answer. I can't help you if you don't talk to me." He reached one hand out to brush Vincent's cheek, but flinched when the ebony haired other pulled sharply away, pressing himself against Sephiroth's chest, one crimson eye never leaving it's cold blooded gaze on Adrian. The man seemed hesitant, unsure. Did Vincent already have a boyfriend? Was this muscular, confident looking man his lover? Why hadn't he told him.

Slowly he retracted his hand, tilting his head as if trying to make something out of the situation. Sephiroth's arm remained around Vincent's shoulders, around his back in a protective manner. At a glance, one couldn't be sure if Vincent was protecting Sephiroth or vice versa. They seemed to be protecting each other. After a long moment Adrian sighed, running a hand through his hair, a glare the only thing filling the space between them. He offered a sad, puzzled smile.

"Well then, there's no reason for me to stay. I'm glad to see you're safe though." He a nod he offered his hand to shake but it went ignored. "Thank you for your hospitality," he called from the doorway, having slipped past the two who graciously moved out of the way for him. He closed the door behind him a little loudly. Inside, Adrian was scathingly mad.

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"What was all that for?" Sephiroth asked, amused that Vincent had stayed for long, so close to him, almost snuggled up to him, breath trailing softly over a broad chest, before Vincent finally pulled away, face drawn. He gave no response, however.

"If I didn't know better, I'd think you liked me." Sephiroth followed the disgruntled brunette into his bedroom. He opened his mouth to say something else but was cut off.

"Can I borrow something to wear? At least a pair of pants?" Vincent asked, looking in all seriousness at the other. Sephiroth raised a brow.

"I should charge you." Vincent's eyes narrowed in a glare, making Sephiroth laugh.

"Careful, you might wound someone with that." He turned to the dresser. He didn't have all that much to wear but nonetheless, it would entertain him to see Vincent wearing something of his, especially with how much larger his clothing would be.

Pulling out a pair of faded jeans he lazed about in when he spent long days accomplishing nothing, he through them at Vincent who only shied away from them. He would have had to flash the man just to catch them. As Sephiroth grinned, he sat in a chair by the dresser. Managing a somber look, Vincent stalked to the bathroom, returning a long moment later, the baggy pants barely hanging on. He looked self-conscious, visibly ignoring the way the waist barely clung to his hips, riding so low it nearly defeated the purpose of wearing them, the long legs pooled about his ankles and dragging as he walked.

"Do you have a belt?" Sephiroth grinned, legs crossed and chin propped on his hand.

"Only one that is currently in use."

He laughed shortly, in a good naturedly sort of way.

"Come here." When Vincent didn't come at first, only suspicious searching Sephiroth for a reason, half caught in indecision, Sephiroth beckoned. Slowly, Vincent approached, and once he was in arm's reach, Sephiroth uncrossed his legs, catching Vincent's jeans by the excess material at the waist and pulling him closer. There was enough room for another person in there. Eyes trailing down the opening he had made, Vincent quickly recovered from faint surprise, eyes narrowing harshly and hands jerking the jeans away. Sephiroth only grinned wider, his gleaming green eyes seeming to accept Vincent's unspoken challenge to keep pushing his luck and see what would happen. Resting his hands on pale, narrow hips, Sephiroth's gaze raked over Vincent's pink scar, down to his somewhat toned stomach, muscles visible, but still feminine looking.

"So then Vincent, tell me. Why were you running away from....Adrian?"

It took him a second to recall the name. He glanced up to Vincent's eyes only to see they were staring into the wall, distant. His jaw was clenched. Vincent didn't want to speak, and Sephiroth knew it. His questions were more rhetorical; something to reflect on, even if he still wanted an answer. He could live without one.

"Why did you come running to me?" His lips ghosted over Vincent's stomach, eliciting an immediate reaction. Vincent flinched at the touch, muscles contracting and shying away at the delicate tickling sensation, and he tried to pull away, the hands on his hips keeping him in place. Sephiroth leaned forward more, protesting hands on his shoulders. He let his tongue flick across porcelain skin and again the body within his grasp curiously moved away from the gentle touches. Pressing forward, he planted a kiss on Vincent's belly, the grip on his shoulders tightening considerably, even more so the lower Sephiroth went, pausing at Vincent's rather low pant line, he looked up to find Vincent was breathing almost erratically, though nearly inaudibly, through his mouth, eyes misted over.

It seemed like a sound might escape his slender throat any moment now. Biting Vincent's jeans and tugging at the playfully, Sephiroth growled, eyes shining. But the vampire only stood passively, as if it didn't matter what was happening or would happen. It was as though he would only silently take what was coming, with no complaint. Seeming to lose his fun, Sephiroth frowned. It wasn't fair if he teased Vincent and got no reaction. He sighed, letting go of Vincent who blushed slightly and stepped back, turning away.

“You're a real killjoy, ya know that?” the swordsman grumbled. As the silence passed, Sephiroth busying himself with finding something to eat, his mind wander back to last night. Vincent had been writhing in his bed with pleasure, only to go into the shower and do it all over again. It sent a thrill down the silver haired man's back. Hojo was getting closer…. If he could make it stronger and just call it a sex potion, Sephiroth would have been happy, but that wasn't the entire objective of the scientist's experiments. If Hojo wanted to use it to goad someone like the President into funding his research, he'd need more than just lust to do it. Then again with someone as sensible as ShinRa as president, Sephiroth doubted Hojo would get his way, even with the help of magic or potions.

“Sephiroth?” a soft, nearly timid voice called from the kitchen doorway.

Sephiroth looked over his shoulder, face questioning. “I'm going home.” Why did Vincent feel the need to tell him? He could have just run away and Sephiroth would have cared less. He would have tracked him down at some point anyway. Besides, the general would need privacy at some point to tell Hojo the effects of the potion he had slipped Vincent. He nodded, half shrugged as he turned back to cracking his egg on a pan on the stove. It struck him that Vincent only had his cloak and a pair of pants to keep him warm, unless he changed back into his own clothing, but Sephiroth wasn't worried. He was more concerned with the hard on he was getting from the images of Vincent's flush body, taut and panting in his bed. He cracked another egg, the pan sizzling and spitting.

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Vincent was freezing. His dirty clothes were bundled under one arm, his shoes pulled back on, his cloak hugged tightly around him, but he was freezing. He was used to at least a shirt as well, but the temperature had dropped over night, even with the sun shining brightly during the day, and he was cold. Leaving the warmth of Sephiroth's suite hadn't been a pleasure, but a necessity. He was nearly home though. He would find something warmer to wear and cuddle up under his covers, wondering why Adrian had come to Sephiroth's room. Then he'd fantasize about being somewhere far away. Eventually it would be time for work again and off he'd go, hoping it would be a busy night so he could avoid his boss.

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He'd been on his shift for a whole hour, serving drinks and wiping down tables before the trouble started. The sun had left the sky long ago with the call of winter, and so even at only seven, the night was premature.

“Vincent?” someone called, and looking over his shoulder, a tray of empty glasses on the other, he answered back with a sigh.

“Coming.” Absorbed in the distraction of his work he wasn't anticipating his boss. Pushing through into the back room where the sinks and dishwashers were, he set his tray down. Stepping back and turning around he was pined against the counter—not a first for him. His instinct was to counterattack whatever or whoever was attacking him, to defend himself, but inside the bar, he had trained his body not to. The first time it had happened had been his last, getting him fired from his previous job. He had been lucky to get another after what he had done.

Adrian wore a delicate smile, but a sort of maliciousness reflected in his deep blue eyes.

“Vincent.” His voice was a purr, like milk and honey. He caressed the vampire's cheek, making him turn away.

“Adrian, what do you want?” Annoyance was clear in his voice.

“Aww, I thought you'd treat me better than that! I've been worried about how you've been. I came to see you and you ran away. I don't appreciate it.” The ex Turk wiggled away, still caught between Adrian's arms, a girlish hand cupping his cheek. He glared, blood red eyes intense and full of poisonous hatred.

“If I didn't know you any better I might be afraid you would bite.” It was a taunt, soft and sweet, and Vincent's boss pressed close, lips brushing the vampire's cheek with a kiss.

“Adrian, stop.” Vincent was mad, but at the same time, his anger was waning helplessly. After the hardships he had faced, he was out of fight. He wished he could go back to his coma induced slumber, not waking again for many, many years.

“Darling, what's wrong? You haven't been yourself lately?” Adrian had slipped his legs between Vincent's knees, still cupping his face and beginning to kiss down his neck. He felt trapped, smothered. He didn't want this.

“Adrian,” he hissed sharply, voice raised in a warning. The chocolate haired brunette was taking his gamble though.

“Who was that other man with you? You're not seeing someone else, are you?” His voice was a croon, sweet, and in a way, dangerous. Vincent didn't know what to think. Slightly shocked he realized that Adrian thought Sephiroth was his boyfriend, and Sephiroth thought Adrian was his boyfriend. What was he supposed to do? With a quick jolt of panic as his boss moved nearer to a sensitive spot, the ex Turk grabbed him roughly by the shoulders and keeping him at arm's length.

“Stop.” His voice was nearly a cry, desperate, the look in his eyes almost pained. He turned away in slight embarrassment and stalked briskly away.

“Vincent.” The voice was loud enough, giving enough warning, to stop him. He halted, pausing, but his step only slowed. “If you're good to me I'll pretend you didn't just do that. You know I have to report all conduct to my superiors.”

Vincent glared over his shoulder, posture tensed.

“Then fire me.” He left before Adrian could say anything. Throwing his apron to the floor and snatching his cloak from a wall hook, people stared as he quietly stormed out, into the cold nice. The air was sharp in his lungs as the farther he walked, the more soothed he was. He no doubt had forfeited his job, but he couldn't stand being near that man one more minute. The way he took advantage of him, the sweet little lies he spoke. He hated being touched by him. That coy smile of his. His mind drifted to Sephiroth. The first class soldier took advantage of him, but not so openly lecherous. He seemed, in a sense, to care more about Vincent. Like he didn't just want to get into his pants. But then, in recent events….. strange events. Something didn't seem quite right. Brows furrowed, shuffling through the snow, the moon luminous and bright against the pitch black sky, the vampire stopped. He had been headed in the direction of his house, but he didn't want to go back so soon.

Sephiroth. He was different, but why? Not just a sense of caring....maybe because he was so much taller, physically larger than Vincent? Shouldn't he have seemed daunting then? No, Vincent didn't fear him. The large frame, broad shoulders, and well muscled build seemed protective. Closing his eyes, he felt a sense of romanticism wash over him and he blushed faintly at the thought of Sephiroth hold him. But why? He wasn't gay. He still had Lucrecia. His mind wandered back to his reasoning, how Sephiroth was half of Lucrecia. He sighed. Maybe that was part of it. Because Sephiroth was half of Lucrecia, and Vincent had loved Lucrecia. Shaking his thoughts from his head he headed back to his apartment. He owed Sephiroth his pants.

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He had called Hojo hours ago and reported what he had witnessed. The scientist seemed eager to hear little details, but the swordsman refused to be anything but vague, and had left Hojo in the dark. He was promised a new potion by that night. It was a little after eight when he heard a small knocking at his door.

“Well that was quick,” he muttered, lounging about and reading a magazine he had picked up earlier when he was whiling away the afternoon. Swinging the door wide open he expected a Turk, or someone of the likes delivering his potion. Instead he had to look down to meet an ex Turk, averting his gaze. A pair of baggy, worn blue jeans were presented to him.

“I didn't expect to find you here,” Sephiroth commented, holding back his grin. He hadn't expected to get his pants back either. Standing aside, not bothering to take his pants, he was forcing Vincent to come in by doing so. Closing the door behind them, Vincent had warily wandered in, not wanting to stay but not sure what else to do. He was most certainly fired from his job, and in the midst of winter, he'd be kicked from his apartment for being unable to pay rent. He only wished it were spring.

“Why the gloomy ambiance, Vin?” Sephiroth asked as he brushed past the vampire, his room warm enough to allow him to walk around in pants and an open chest shirt, showing off finely carved muscles. Settling lengthwise on his bed, he turned in the magazine where he had stopped to answer his door.

“I don't intend to stay,” Vincent said quietly, gently laying Sephiroth's pants on his bed. Returning his faintly glowing green eyed gaze to the man before him he raised a questioning brow.

“No? You're sure? We could try out some positions they have in my magazine and test them to see if they're as good as the magazine claims they are.” Mischief was in his eyes as he held the open magazine up for Vincent to see. It was a sado-masochism and bondage magazine putting to use an array of toys and objects to sate anyone's perverse desire. Ignoring the images, Vincent folded his arms across his chest. He was wearing a heavy grey turtleneck, and outside it was perfect to wear with his cloak, but inside it was much too warm.

“Will you at least stay for tea?” Sephiroth asked. He had put water on to boil only a moment ago. Closing his eyes as though to fight back an oncoming headache, Vincent reluctantly nodded. He didn't want to go bad to his sad and oppressed apartment, and he had nothing else to do.

He sat on the very edge of the bed, bristling with caution now that his back was to Sephiroth, but he shrugged it off. Sephiroth was silent a moment, content to just run his eyes over Vincent's back.

“I thought you worked tonight,” he said, his voice half a prodding question. Slightly tensed that Sephiroth had known his working schedule, he said nothing. “Something happened. I'd like to know what.” He smiled, threatening to become a feral grin.

“It does not concern you,” Vincent spoke softly, not quite inaudibly.

“It does if I have some competition.” Vincent couldn't help but regard Sephiroth with a quizzical look, only making the swordsman's smile turn into a full-fledged grin. “Well, that Adrian guy is pretty cute. He did come for you earlier so….” Talking about Adrian elicited a response from Vincent, despite the vampire's efforts to keep it subtle. His posture straightened as apt to do when imposing danger threatened his social superiority. His lips were pursed and his eyes flashed, but he settled back after a split second.

“Oh so it has something to do with him. Did you get into a fight with your boyfriend again? Was he coming back to apologize but you just don't love him the way he loves you?” Sephiroth was jibing, but to Vincent, the remarks were surprising close.

Vincent shrugged.

“I'm not interested in him. He got to close and I had to set him straight. That was all.” Sephiroth nearly laughed when two and two seemed to come together.

“And you got fired for it? Let me guess, he has a third eye from the hole Cerberus put in his head, right?”

“It's not like that,” Vincent frowned. He didn't entirely want Adrian dead, even if it did seem convenient at certain times, but he also didn't want the stain of another blood shed at his hands like a permanent stigma on him for the rest of his interminably miserable life. He had given up and given in. He'd lived with his murdering and his cold thoughts long enough. Being a Turk was good training, in some aspects, but inhumane in others, and the softer side of his heart could not bear that. After losing Lucrecia…. He sighed.

“So then why did you let him harass you if you didn't like him?” Sephiroth prodded, folding his magazine shut and stretching on his belly across the bed, head propped on his hands and settled next to Vincent, feet hanging off the other end. The ex Turk shifted slightly away, not looking at the silver haired man. He shrugged.

“I didn't want to lose my job. He usually only approached me when I was working, right before I was about to clock out or when I was on break. If I had done anything I would have lost my job like last time. It took long enough to become employed a second time after losing my first job, and since I needed the money to pay for my apartment, I wasn't too keen on getting fired. Up until tonight I just put up with it.”

“But you still didn't like it. Couldn't you have told you boss or something?”

“He is….was my boss.” He shrugged again, long ebony hair falling over his shoulders. “It wasn't that big of a deal. I just wasn't comfortable with it.”

“You're too easy.” Vincent's face darkened at the comment. Sephiroth rolled his eyes as the water boiled, singing its shrill song from its brass pot on the stove. “I didn't mean it that way.” He gave Vincent a playful shove once he was standing. He disappeared into the kitchen, returning moments later with two cups of tea, still steaming.

“Hope you like raspberry green tea,” Sephiroth said, handing him a cup. Setting his on the nightstand and crawling back to situate himself on the bed he opened his magazine again, propped against his headboard by several pillows. As he flipped a page, murmuring to himself, his attention was diverted, and soon he had forgotten Vincent was there. He was so still and quiet, the vampire was easy to overlook. Nearly a particular section describing so intricate uses for red tape, Sephiroth would help but slip his hands down his pants, eyes heavy with his lust. After all, Vincent was actually the one on his mind, and when he murmured the ex Turk's name, successfully drawing his attention to him, the darkling had jumped to his feet.

Catching the movement Sephiroth's head snapped up. For a second everything seemed frozen, then a half smile cracked Sephiroth's face. Groaning again as he stroked himself a last time, he with drew his hands, busying himself with the tea he had forgotten as well. It had cooled down, though still hot. Hugging one arm about himself, Vincent set his half finished cup of raspberry green tea on Sephiroth's dresser.

“I'm leaving,” he announced. Sephiroth was just being lewd, perverse, obscene! Calling his name so wantonly like that… sickening. But still, it peaked his curiosity. The first class swordsman wasn't attracted to him, was he? Well, obviously he was physically attracted, but he wouldn't have been the first. Before Vincent could leave though, a knock was sounded at the door. The brunette looked at the door, a little puzzled, as if wondering what it was. Hastily, Sephiroth jumped up to answer it, stalking to the door and grumbling about how many visitors he was receiving. Checking the peep hole this time, he saw it was Tseng. Leaving the door ajar he stood, propping it with his foot.

“Yes?” His expression showed his anticipation. Without a word, the Turk withdrew a vial from his jacket, the liquid a faint pink.

“Here.” Taking it, Sephiroth grinned, pocketing it and closing the door without another word. Curiously, Vincent had been attempting to look over Sephiroth's shoulder. Another knock, sharper and more insistent sounded. Glowering, Sephiroth opened the door once more, with less secrecy to hide Tseng.

“Yes?” He folded his arms impatiently.

“My pay?” Sephiroth's eyes widened, his brow quirked.

“Pay?” That bastard Hojo……

“Ten-thousand.” Sephiroth groaned. Ten grand?! Stubbornly, but in haste for making Vincent stay, he closed the door, grumbling for the Turk to give him a minute.

“Was that Tseng?” Vincent asked softly, looking at the closed door with wide eyes. Sephiroth didn't hear him, mourning the loss of his money. Gil didn't grow on trees after all. Shuffling through a drawer of his dresser he pulled out quite a few bills. Storming back to the door he yanked it open and thrust the money at Tseng.

“Here!” He closed the door in his face, disgruntled. When his eyes landed on Vincent, however, his woes were forgotten. He smiled.

“Was that Tseng?” Vincent repeated, taking a slight step back. Sephiroth merely shrugged.

“Just a business man.” He picked Vicent's tea up, his back turned to the raven haired man. “You should at least finish your tea before you go. It would be rude not to.” He poured the contents of the vial in Vincent's tea, turning it a slight reddish color. Luckily for him, the vampire had been looking intrigued at the door the whole time.

The general handed Vincent back his tea.

“I should get going.” His voice was distracted, almost insistent.

“Finish your tea.” Crossing his arms and waiting, it was a moment before Vincent complied. Making a face at the slightly different taste, he didn't bother to ask. It was getting cold, and cold tea was never very good. The younger man's observant stare set him on edge a bit, but he was more interested in tracking down Tseng. Gulping the rest of his tea, he wiped his mouth on the back of his arm.

“Thank you.” He nearly tossed the cup at Sephiroth as he swiftly left the room, not bothering to close the door behind him. The swordsman smirked. He had a feeling they were getting closer to the desired results. Hojo wouldn't bother waiting for side effects either. He had a feeling the scientist wouldn't get any tonight anyway.

************************

Vincent had tailed Tseng down. The Turk had parked a block away from the hotel and the vampire had caught him halfway. It was merely an impulse to chase after him.

“Tseng…” his voice trailed off as the Turk turned on his heel. His body was wired to either defend or attack if need be, though he threw no defense up, no arms to block, and the sharp glare in his eyes was just as piercing and wounding as any assault. Vincent stopped short, only feet away. Tseng had grown older. It was apparently, but it was in a graceful, dignifying sort of way.

“Yes?” His voice was terse, as crisp as the winter's nighttime air. The vampire was at a loss for words. What had he expected to say? After a long second, when no response was elicited, Tseng turned to leave.

“Wait.” What did Vincent want? Sighing, the Turk ignored the request and carried on, his pace brisk, holding that of importance.

“Tseng, please wait.” Vincent followed after, and upon hearing his name Tseng whirled on him.

“What do you want?” His voice was almost a growl. If he had had any patience, he had lost it already.

Still speechless, he was content to merely look.

“Who are you?” Tseng asked again, a little softer, though ready to ruffle his feathers and fight back if need be.

“You…..” Vincent tried to speak but his voice was lost.

“Listen, I don't care if you're selling anything, and I don't take kindly to beggars.” His voice was cold, inhumane. A little shocked, though not surprised, Vincent didn't follow when Tseng turned around, lips pursed tightly and walked to his car. The black, sleek vehicle beeped as he unlocked the door, getting into drive away on the snow paths of Midgar.

************************

Heading inevitably back to his apartment, Vincent's silent pace was intercepted by someone. Adrian. He could tell even before the man had fully approached.

“Vincent.” It was his greeting. “I can still forgive you, you know. I haven't given my reports of conduct yet.” Vincent was through with him and so he kept walking. A hand caught his wrist.

“Vincent.” The voice was almost curious, warning. An arm snaked around his waist, pulling him towards the chocolate haired brunette to face those blue eyes. Vincent blushed. He hadn't meant to and didn't know why. A heat was creeping up his spine where Adrian was grasping him and Vincent shivered. Adrian hadn't been expecting that reaction. He let his hand brush a pale cheek.

“Your so beautiful.” It was a murmur in Vincent's ear, his breath warm, and he shuddered. Adrian, so close… it was like a prickling sensation, spikes of heat all over his body. It messed up his mind. He couldn't think clear for some reason.

When his boss took a step closer, Vincent stumbled back, afraid he might fall.

“We should go to your apartment. I'm worried about you.” It was a sweet croon, laced with concern and inadvertently, lust. Vincent didn't respond. He couldn't. His voice wasn't working properly. Half stumbling, half walking, they made the short journey back to Vincent's dreary bedroom. It was considerably cold as he was pushed gently against his bed. Looking a dazed and pout lipped Vincent over, Adrian figured much talk wouldn't be needed. Testing how aware Vincent was, he settled a hand on his thigh, slowly moved it down his chest, under his shirt. He was panting. Desire and lust. That's what was making his head spin. Taking full advantage of Vincent he skipped groping the older man through his pants, instead diving a cool hand in. Vincent moaned deliciously. From his wirelessly connection, both Hojo and Sephiroth watched from somewhere. Hojo had contacted the swordsman, thinking he should know, and Sephiroth was glad he had. He was pissed. He'd let Adrian get his fun. Then he, Sephiroth, would get his revenge.