Final Fantasy - All Series Fan Fiction ❯ Clockwork Angel ❯ Clockwork Angel ( Chapter 1 )

Title: Clockwork Angel
Author: GuiltyRed
Rating: NC17
Warnings: rough sex, dark imagery (heh)
Word count: 1343
Prompt: Final Fantasy VII: Dirge of Cerberus, Nero/Weiss: Car Chase AND/OR Battle - (Weiss) "Where are you going?" (Nero): "Insane. Would you care to join me, brother?"
Summary: The only thing that keeps the Tsviets going is their faith in one another. For two of them, this faith transcends everything.
A/N: I debated between dark and crack, and dark won (I may try for the crackprompt later on). This takes place before DoC, while Restrictor reigned supreme…

Another day, another contest.

Restrictor calls the combatants, sets them on one another, and stands back to record the destruction.

It never ends, in Deepground. We are lab rats here, devouring one another in our frenzy to be free.

I have done what they commanded, earning myself a few precious minutes to be neither chattel nor gladiator. Here in the ruins that mimic the above world in a broken mockery, the filtered replicated sunlight looks bloody, coloring my skin with its stain.

Nearby, the sounds of combat - odd, I'd thought they'd finished the testing for today. I hurry toward the noise.

What I find hits me like a fist to the throat.

Nero has been called. His darkness is sealed and his arms bound, but he is by no means handicapped. Wings joined to his spine answer his every impulse: fine blades become a whirling scythe as he spins, and unfeeling hands wield guns with unerring accuracy.

The “trainees” don't stand a chance.

In moments, it's over, Restrictor's posture one of smug satisfaction.

Nero bears down on him like a storm.

“No, brother, don't,” I whisper, hoping he hasn't lost all reason. I couldn't bear for him to face Restrictor's wrath.

My fears prove groundless as Nero merely pauses to snarl, “I'm done. I'm going back to rest,” before gliding past as if no permission is needed.

Following him turns into a new sort of challenge: clearly, Nero does not want company. He nearly loses me in the ruins, but when he falters I am there, catching him as he sways beneath the weight of his wings.

My touch brings no comfort. “Leave me be,” he hisses, pulling away from me to sprint further into the ruins. Darkness writhes about him now, devouring the artificial light.

A surge of anger courses through me, anger at Restrictor, at the scientists, at the whole damn thing. I run to cut him off, make him talk to me, anything but this. “Where are you going?” I challenge, blocking his path.

His eyes are bright and feral within the dark, his voice unsteady as he nearly laughs, “Insane. Would you care to join me, brother?”

I understand this. Instead of offering him empty comfort, I grip his arm with the strength of my position. “Don't let them win, brother. I got to entertain them today as well. One would think they'd be bored of this by now.”

“One would think…” His voice is like poison.

Poison we've both been forced to swallow one time too many.

“They never let you stretch, do they?” I ask gently as I unfasten the buckles that keep his arms immobile. “They're so damn afraid of you…but I need you strong, brother. Tsviet strong.” I meet his eyes, reminding him of our pact.

Things I dare not say aloud echo in his gaze.

“Come, brother - spar with me!” I grin at him and brace myself. “Show me what they don't want to see.”

“Weiss, no,” he murmurs. “I don't want to fight you.”

“These tests, they're nothing to you, or to me,” I remind him. “They make us feel used and useless all in one. Feel strong again with me, my brother. You can't harm me: I'm not afraid of the dark.”

Fast as thought and fueled by grief and pain and fury, Nero spins and unfurls his wings. I barely leap away in time, but I am smiling. He is beautiful, so beautiful: a clockwork angel feeding on the darkness of the soul.

As if in response to my thought, tendrils of darkness ripple through the ruins, drawing the sun down. Shadow engulfs me, shows me nothing more than my brother's face. He is maskless in this place, this darkness, his sorrow and shame etched in the tension around his mouth; I lunge at him, grappling flesh and shadow, and for a moment surprise replaces the sorrow.

Wiry strength twists to throw me off, and then he is on top of me, pinning me to a broken stone. “You wanted to see what I can do, brother?” he whispers without sound. “Am I strong enough for you?”

I gather myself to turn the tables on him, but darkness seeps into my head, and suddenly I'm not sure anymore if this is real or if I'm dreaming. His hands grip my wrists, holding them fast above my head as he bends down and claims my mouth with an unrelenting kiss. Dream, then, I tell myself; this is flesh on flesh, the mask is gone.

So be it.

“Your strength is deeper too, my brother,” he murmurs, lips curving gently around the words. “They do not know of this, our refuge within the dark. Would they forbid it, do you think?”

I can't help but laugh. “They'd probably kill us outright. They can't control us here.”

Nero smiles down at me and shifts his position. “Neither can you, Weiss. This domain is mine alone. My will shapes even you, here.”

Suddenly I am quite aware of our positions, and the heat of his body against mine. I shoot him a reckless grin. “So what's your intention, Nero of the Infinite Darkness?”

Amber eyes spark with mischief. “Do you surrender, Immaculate Weiss?”

I debate the wisdom of defiance, then whisper, “Only to you, my brother. Only ever to you.”

He kisses me again, and the darkness becomes like a warm blanket wrapped around us. No gear, no restraints, no wings: in this sacred space we are only men, not SOLDIERS, not slaves.

Just us.

Heat and anger still smolder like embers in his gaze, but there is also pride and devotion and a fierce sort of love that could devour a lesser man. Nero watches my face as he guides my legs to lift about his hips. He positions himself and thrusts, neither of us needing gentleness here in this dreamscape.

I pull him into me, wanting his anger and his fury, drawing him into myself to cleanse him of his pain. I stretch upward as best I can and catch his lip between my teeth, urging him to share this hurt with me.

Nero groans and thrusts harder. His hands grip my wrists tighter than any shackles, and yet they are the true mark of our freedom. We have made this reality, this place out of time, and we will defend it to our deaths.

Noise intrudes, but it is distant: a command to return to our stations.

We ignore it.

My world is only this: Nero hard and desperate upon me, spilling his essence around and in me, both of us drowning in darkness.

His mouth is soft against mine, murmuring small sounds that turn into a voiceless gasp as he goes rigid in the grip of orgasm. His eyes look surprised before they slip shut in silent prayer.

I thrust up against him, rubbing against his hard belly. I was so intent on him that my own climax isn't near enough.

I must have let out some whimper of discontent; suddenly the pressure at my wrists is gone, and he has taken me in hand. He smiles down at me as he strokes, urging me onward. “Quickly, brother. You wouldn't want to get caught like this, would you?”

That's all it takes: I've seen the way some of Restrictor watch me, I can well imagine what such discovery would mean. My finish is fast and hard, sudden but no less satisfying for that fact.

As the haze of sated pleasure begins to part, the darkness parts with it. Nero and I are still grappling upon the ruins; stone digs into my hip and shoulder.

Behind the mask, Nero is smiling for me alone. He releases his hold on me, then offers me a hand up. “We should get back. And a shower would not be unwelcome.”

I cup his face, feeling the heat of flesh against my fingertips. “Be strong, my brother. For me. This is not forever.”

He nods; then, as one, we turn to answer Restrictor's newest call.