Final Fantasy - All Series Fan Fiction ❯ It Was Not Without... ❯ It Was Not Without... ( Chapter 1 )

        "Cloud!"
        The blonde started out of his calm daydream with that shout.  It was loud, it was angry, it was unexpected--
        It was Tifa.  How puzzling.  A glance at the clock told him it was late; quite a bit after 7th Heaven had closed for the night.  He'd been downstairs as the door was locked to make sure there were no leftover drunks; that had to have been hours ago...  He darted off of the bed to dash downstairs--nearly running headlong into an extremely, frighteningly, upset old friend.  "Wh--"
        "Denzel."  She hissed.
        Cloud blinked, unwilling to say a word.  Okay... and..?
        "Got into the liquor, Cloud."  She finished, hands on her hips.
        He'd never seen her in any state remotely similar to the one she was in--teeth gritted, hands balled but trembling...  It was dangerous.  He fought the urge to take a step back as her words actually sank in.  "That's... not like him."  Was the only thing that spilled forth.  Denzel was such a good kid...
        Tifa sighed harshly, turning away from him.  "I know... I know, but..."  Were it possible for her knuckles to constrict into still-tighter fists, they most certainly did so at that point.  "I just... I can't... be here, right now."  Tifa straightened and somehow had the mind about her to walk out.
        The entire incident left Cloud blinking, staring motionlessly after her.  He heard her say something at the bottom of the stairs, a response coming after--then slam the front door closed.
        She'd taken Marlene with her... which meant...
        He was alone.  With Denzel.  With a possibly drunk Denzel.  And he was expected to... do... what?
        He shook his head, trying to find any action that seemed appropriate.  It wasn't in the boy's character to do anything even remotely wrong.  He'd raised and trained Denzel for years... it just wasn't like him.
        Well.  He took a deep breath, deciding to wing it as best he could.
 

        Denzel was standing in the middle of his room, head down, feeling... horribly shameful.  He'd insisted that he was tired and ready to sleep early, going up to his room--with a small bottle taken from behind the counter under his shirt.  Tifa and Marlene, of course, had never noticed; they were busy with the cleaning and counting the money.
        Tifa never would have known had he not accidentally dropped the bottle with nervous fingers as she passed by for some box or another.  The glass didn't shatter, thank the Planet, but the dull thud was enough to worry her--and then some, when she'd opened the door.  She'd been so angry that her voice didn't even work.  She went right back down the stairs and waited there; waited to calm down enough to yell.  He'd never seen anything like, and had great hope that he never would again.
        He'd needed that bottle, though.  For months--no, years--he'd been thinking... obsessing... over Cloud.  Not as merely a teacher, a trainer, some kind of odd parental figure that was not at all parental... but something... other.  Something he wasn't even sure that he understood, really... but it was a deep, carnal sort of instinct rather than a passing boyhood confusion--that, he did know for certain.  He wanted Cloud to notice him... he wanted to make himself noticeable.  Noticeable enough so that there was nothing beyond he and his hero for just... just one moment... just long enough...
        And he'd tried, dammit--in small ways, subtle ways, but he'd tried.  He was afraid to try, but he'd been steadily losing that fear.
        That... was where the alcohol came in.  He didn't know... why, really.  He knew he wasn't supposed to, knew that eventually he would be caught... but he'd hoped it wouldn't have been Tifa to catch him.
        She was really mad.  He felt badly about that; he certainly wasn't drunk enough to miss her angry glare, and a deaf man could have heard her yelling up to Cloud.
        He wasn't drunk... just warm.  Pleasantly warm, and sort of... floating.  He'd stopped then, honestly.  Only enough to have been caught... to feel good despite the horrible taste, to give him...
        And that was what he was quickly discovering, the exact reason that made people consume alcohol in the first place: courage.  That vile burn granted the stuff in liquid form, made it as real and tangible as you wanted it to be.  No, it did not create anything that wasn't already there--it enhanced what lived beneath the surface.
        And that was when he heard his door creak open.  Denzel turned to find the blonde standing in the doorway, giving him a long look... and the boy's tongue ran completely away with his mind.  "Punish me, Cloud."
        The warrior quite literally had to bite his own tongue to keep a pleased shudder at bay.  Those utterly unexpected words from the boy wearing nothing more than his pajama pants...  It wasn't as if he hadn't known Denzel's intentions.  They weren't things that would be obvious to anyone who hadn't... known them from the inside, before.  Casual closeness getting more and more casual... an extra brush of fingers as he handed over a sword... and the way the boy would pause in front of his door that was always cracked open at night to let the air flow through.
        It wasn't the fact that Denzel paused in front of his door that alerted him.  It was the sharp breaths, the sound of clothes sliding against skin and to the floor... and that delicious little gasp when he was trying so hard to be quiet...
        That in itself was never a problem.  The complications came with Cloud's too-calm acceptance of the matter... and his curiosity.  Denzel was fifteen... and he himself certainly remembered his desires at fifteen.  He shook his head, trying to banish the thoughts.  They weren't... proper.  The reality of the situation was, the boy had done something he was absolutely not likely to have ever done.  He knew it was wrong, a fact clearly presented, and yet...  "Did you do this to get in trouble?"
        The youth was still able to gauge his own response carefully; neither a yes or a no would have been the whole truth.  "Maybe."  He whispered, feeling that warm courage starting to falter a little.  Much more, and he'd lose it altogether--and he could not lose that moment, that advantage.  So, he did the only thing he could think to do, the thing Cloud had taught him--use every advantage to its full capacity.  "I wanted you to fuck me."
        The words spilling from that once-innocent, delicate mouth...  They were shocking; but not because of any surprise in their content.  It was how bluntly they'd been uttered.  Of all the things to say, all the ways to respond...  "I'm almost twice your age."  The warrior insisted calmly.
        "Almost.  But not quite."  For all of his youth, all of his inexperience, his entire manner took on a very natural, adult, matter-of-fact tone--one that reminded Cloud perhaps a little too much of a young Rufus Shinra.  "Like you said, I'm 15.  But you're really not that much older than I am.  Not even if you were twice my age."
        Damn the boy's teenaged logic, striking him exactly when and where he did not need further weakness.  "Not the point."
        "So what is the point?" the boy took a step, feeling the room shudder and shift around him--but he did not fall, did not stumble.  His will was far too strong to look weak now.
        "You know better than to be drinking.  That is the point, Denzel."  His voice was harsh, matter-of-fact... but softer than he'd have liked it.
        Denzel dropped his head, shame suddenly burning through him.  He never wanted to disappoint Cloud.  "I... I thought..."
        Couldn't let him finish.  The blonde knew that he could not let him finish that phrase or else it meant the death of his already floundering self-control.  And yet, as his mouth opened to reprimand the boy, to inflict some parental punishment of words... he could not speak.  It could have been that quickly passing look of shame and sadness in the boy's face... or it could have been his own curiosity that he was quickly losing his better judgment to.  If lead to consider it further, he'd have probably reached the conclusion that it was an equal mixture of both.
        Denzel looked up again, meeting his hero's eyes.  "I've always... wanted you to touch me..." he whispered, trying desperately to maintain the momentum in his disappearing liquor-courage.
        The wrong thing to say at just the wrong time--depending upon which side was taken.  To Cloud it was a limit break--a last great attempt at winning when all of the odds were piling up against you, all of your life and your soul and your willpower focused on one mad attempt to win... and it was working.
        Something snapped.  Perhaps that's what it was.  Something of instinct and memory and desire took over--and Cloud no longer felt shame about it at all.  So they were sharing fantasies, were they?  Well, alright then.  With no more warning than a sudden glint in his already glowing eyes, he made impressively quick work of grasping both of the youth's wrists and securing them firmly behind Denzel's back in one hand.  Immobile, surprised and feeling generally helpless, the boy was easy to hold straight-stiff and upright.
        Two pairs of blue eyes met and locked; one were wide and frightened like a trapped animal, the others held a distinctly predatory property.  The predator was distantly recalling something similar having happened to him, long ago... and the prey was assuring himself that what would happen next was not something he could ever forget.
        Cloud watched the youth's tongue quickly peek out from between his flushed lips, lap swiftly at the flesh there and then retreat--a move of uncertainty... and anticipation.  It took him a moment to realize that there was no true fear there...  "You should be more concerned, Denzel."  His voice was low, growling... threatening.  "You're playing a very dangerous game, here."  Certainly if he could scare the boy off, frighten him way too much to try this again, then everything would stop...
        "I'm not afraid of you, Cloud."  The teenager answered, his voice surprisingly calm regardless of his eyes remaining the size of small saucers.  "I know you won't hurt me."
        No.  No, he couldn't do this.  "Dammit, Denzel."  The blonde released and pushed the boy away from him, turning to leave.  Clearly he was dealing with someone who was either outright stupid or purely, self-destructively, suicidal, who didn't understand what he wanted nor what he was asking--
        But as the youth stopped the older warrior cold by rushing ahead and falling to his knees in front of the retreating form, Cloud was forced to acknowledge his greater mistake: the boy knew exactly what he wanted... and knew what he asked.  There was no more sign of alcohol in that motion, in those eyes that caught him like no grip of hand ever could.
        "Don't."
        "Cloud..."
        It was too late for him already.  There was a beautiful, half-naked boy kneeling in front of him, already pulling his zipper down... but, more...  It was more than lust tinting those shining eyes in the dark.  Something far more frightening, there--something beyond hero worship.  He realized... that must have been what Sephiroth had seen in his eyes, the first time...
        "I want this."  Denzel insisted, all drunkenness bled out of him.  "And so do you."
        Still surprised as he was, the youth's mouth mere inches from where he sincerely would like to have it... he was in no mood to argue.  Still, his instincts cried out to him--this was Denzel.  A boy he was trying to raise, to make a better life for.  Before him was the same boy he'd held when the Geostigma got too intensely painful.  How his voice managed to come through the haze of possibilities...  "You're too young for--"
        "I'm fifteen."  He asserted again, roughly.
        Fifteen... gods...  Who was Cloud to tell Denzel he was too young when he himself had...  --No.  He had to be the strong one about this.  The adult.  He had to protect the boy.  "You're too young for this.  And you're too young for drinking."
        "Never again."  The youth promised.
        Try as he might, Cloud could not find a lie in those eyes--only feral, sincere lust.  "And... this?"
        "I want this."  He reiterated, meeting the Mako blue gaze with everything he had in him.  His voice was strong, steady.  "I've wanted this for a long time.  And I'll still want it when this is over."
        The words felt so real, so powerful, that the blonde had to close his eyes for a moment.  He could feel to hot breath through the leather...
        Too young, maybe... but the situation was admittedly different.  At least, he hoped so.  He saw no reason that he might break Denzel's heart over and over again, forcing the boy to kill him several times because his mind had shattered.
        But... this...  He couldn't do this...  The boy would regret, the boy would know better...
        "Don't you like me, Cloud?"
        Only the sincere pain in his voice had made the blonde open his eyes to look down.  No, he didn't want the boy to think it was him...  "Denzel... of course I like you, but--"
        Logic seemed a far-off thing, suddenly.  "Don't you want to fuck me?"
        The warrior's eyes went wide with that question.  He pushed the boy away from him, falling to his own knees when Denzel sprawled backwards, surprised.  There was shock in the boy's gaze, the wet beginning of tears--but the blonde had no intention of letting them form.
        "No."  Cloud whispered, hovering over the young brunette, catching his shoulders when it appeared that he may try to run away in shame and disappointment.  "I don't want to fuck you, Denzel."
        The boy's mouth opened to yell, to express how much it hurt to hear such wounding words--when another pair of lips pressed against his.  His eyes were wide with sightless shock, the true feel of the kiss lost to him.
        But that was merely the first kiss.  Cloud remembered; he let the boy breathe for a moment, running his lips over the soft jawline, along the side of his neck and back to lips again.
        That time, there was a response.  Trembling, unsure, frightened... but it was not to last.  Youthful indulgences; Denzel's eyes closed to block out his vision, to concentrate only on the feel of the kiss, the taste, the smell... the perfection of it.  His desire, his forever unobtainable goal... returned tenfold.
        The warrior pulled away at last, his eyes half-closed with an appreciating look of contentment.  And yet, there was still that which was never asked of him... but what he would never go without asking.  "Denzel?"
        "C-Cloud..." the boy barely managed, still shivering from the shock and pleasure of the new sensations.
        "Do you want this, Denzel?" his voice low, soft, hopeful but careful...
        No hesitation.  No misunderstanding.  "Yes."
        Right or wrong, that was all the assurance Cloud had needed.  He pulled back and took hold of the youth's loose-fitting pajama bottoms, pulling them off swiftly to leave him naked on the floor.  He then stood himself, staring down at the beautiful expanse of skin and muscle, unscarred flesh and youthful semetry.  His own clothes were shed like a serpent's skin, quickly and without much thought given to where any of it landed.
        Time blurred for the youth--all was sense and sensation; Cloud's beautiful and handsome form just above him, fading scars and perfect muscle became glowing Mako blue eyes against strands of gold, became--
        The soft, smooth warmth of the warrior's tongue on his hardening flesh was far, far too much--Denzel's voice caught in mid-cry, his chest feeling as though it may seize forever.  Just as he had managed to get his breath, as he was starting to think that perhaps he could control himself--he proved to be fifteen.
        Cloud chuckled softly with the disappointed grunt in Denzel's panting moan, even through the pleasure.  He swallowed eagerly, pulling away to assume that was about that.  He stayed in a crouch over the boy's body, however... watching.  Waiting.  It was nice to finally admire him up close without the need to glance away, to pretend that he didn't notice.
        Despite the severely unexpected exhaustion and the gloriously pleasant after-effects of the first orgasm that hadn't been brought by his own hand, the youth's suddenly wide blue eyes caught the Mako ones before the elder was able to pull away entirely.  "But... what about..."
        "Ssshh.  You were right."  Cloud assured softly.  He wasn't planning on having his own release with the boy just yet... let alone what he seemed to have been implying with those pleading eyes.  "I won't hurt you, Denzel.  This is just too soon for you."
        "Then why are you still here in the first place?" he asked with an understated amusement--a distinct understanding.
        ...Damn.  But he remembered it, himself... the apprehension, the exhilaration--but the pain...
        "Maybe I want you to hurt me a little."  He admitted softly.
        That statement went straight to Cloud's already undeniable erection.  The boy was so similar to himself, back then...  "The first time always hurts."
        "Please, Cloud..."  And then, a funny idea...  "It could be my punishment."
        The blonde smirked down at the youth below.  "Some punishment."
        "Well, it will hurt for a few days after, won't it?"  That time there was no glint in his eyes at the idea of pain...
        "I won't do that to you."  He promised, waiting until the boy was paying full attention to his words.  "I... that's not the way it should be."
        "Show me."  The youth pleaded.  "Cloud, please... so bad... I... I want this so badly..."
        He tried to ignore the boy's moaned words.  The way Denzel's hands reached up for his shoulders, his surprisingly strong arms pulling the warrior back down and over him.  He let himself be pulled, let the heat rush over his skin again.  It'd been so long... and it wasn't as if doing just such a thing with the youth had never crossed his mind, to put it lightly.  He let the shaking, uncertain lips explore his own, savoring the simple desire that drove them.  "You have to be sure about this..." he whispered against the boy's mouth.
        "I am."  He responded, just as softly.  "Cloud, I'm sure... please..."
        With one last kiss, the blonde pulled back and gave a mild sigh.  Temptation was just too easy, sometimes... but he was not one to complain.  He gestured to the boy to stay where he was, getting up and walking across the room to find something--ah, lotion.  Did Denzel use that to pleasure himself to the warrior's image, he wondered... grinning at himself for being so egotistical.  He could ask, he supposed... but that should wait until later.
        Kneeling back over the curious, wide-eyed youth, he carefully positioned the boy's limbs.  Cloud believed himself correct in assuming that it would be Denzel's first time, and that meant he would have to make it as easy as possible.
        Legs spread just slightly, knees bent, completely open to anything that may be planned for him... Denzel closed his eyes and tried to breathe normally.  He was barely allowed a moment to prepare himself for what was to come; the cool, gentle touch of something against his opening caused him to gasp in surprise.  Yes, he had some idea of the mechanics, but... never had he known what it might feel like.
        "Ssssh..." Cloud tried to get the youth to relax a little by placing a gentle hand on his thigh.  He forced himself to be patient, pressing ever so slightly before making tiny circles.  "Slow, deep breaths."
        Denzel tried to nod, doing what he could to obey.  The light circling had begun to turn back to pressing, making him feel his own quivering at the unknown sensations.  It was not altogether unpleasant--it was the fear of not knowing how he should react, not certain as to what was going to happen next...
        The youth cried out when the finger began to pick up force, finally entering him in a long, slow thrust.  If it was a little pain the boy wanted, Cloud would certainly do his best to deliver.  It was nothing severe, nothing that would harm him; just enough to snap him out of his worry, making him focus on exactly what the warrior was doing to him.  Allowing a moment for Denzel to catch his breath, Cloud then began a slow in-and-out stroke.
        There was nothing to clutch, nothing to cling to--except those powerful shoulders above him.  The boy's fingernails dug into the flesh without meaning to, something deep inside of him being brushed for the first time.
        Cloud winced slightly with the short-lived clawing pain in his shoulders, his finger pressing hard against the boy's prostate.  He suddenly stopped minding altogether when a long, passionate moan was torn from the young throat, warming his entire body.  He smirked down at the writhing form beneath him, slowly pressing another finger inside to stretch carefully with the first.  "Tifa is going to kill us both.  She'll probably strike at me first, so you can get a head start."
        I could die here... Denzel wished he were able to say.  Just like this... right now...
       The sparkle in the warrior's eyes grew more mischievous as the boy was lost in his pleasure, going from stiffening to thrashing, gasping and moaning; a third finger make the surprisingly strong hands dig yet deeper into Cloud's already torn shoulders.  He found little reason to complain, however.  The time to find out whether or not Denzel really knew what he was getting into had come.
        The sudden emptiness inside made the boy mumble with annoyance--right before he realized he was being picked up off the floor and expected to stand under his own weight.  He stumbled a little, glad that Cloud had anticipated such a thing and caught him.  Instead of being merely lead to the bed, Denzel was spun around quickly, the blonde's hands strong on his forearms and pushing him roughly onward.
        The boy turned his head with trepidation and looked up, startled by being roughly thrown against the mattress.  "Cloud..?"
        In return, he received a dark but friendly smirk.  "You should be a little afraid, Denzel."
        When the brunette's only response was another one of those deliciously paralyzing moans, Cloud knew it was exactly what the youth needed from him.  Certain that his preparations had been thorough, he pulled back, spread the remainder of the lotion on himself and pressed just inside the lithe body with forced restraint.  He would be as delicate as he could while making Denzel's experience... memorable.
        There was one cold, solid instant of panic in the body beneath, causing the boy to gasp in pain when all had gone tense.  It was a blind moment of raw and thoughtless primal reaction--disintegrated by the all too soft press of lips against the back of his neck, a soft hand ghosting against his shoulder.  Kindness amongst the chaos drew his mind to working again.
        The youth's body tensed a second time--with the pain/pleasure, the alien sensations, the loss of control and real or imagined danger.  It hurt, but the simple knowledge of who was pressed against him--inside him--holding him down, making it hurt...  He was panting even before he was fully impaled, body completely over-sensitized.
        Cloud was extremely glad that the smirk across his lips had no witnesses.  Things were... going well.  He forced himself to pause, letting the unpracticed boy adjust to him.
        But Denzel surprised them both; with a barely controlled cry of bitter-sweet agony, he thrust backwards and seated himself completely.  Cloud hissed between his teeth, unconsciously dragging his fingernails harshly across the youth's hips.  The soft heat around him was quite enough, but the intense tightness he'd suddenly been drawn into...  he moaned mindlessly at the feel of the boy's hips knocking against his own, the scent of blood from the shallow streams clawed by them both--the admission that they both wanted this.  Needed it.  Food, clothing, shelter, and this.
        Cloud somehow found the presence of mind to wait before pulling away to commence the fucking of the boy straight through the mattress; he instead allowed his fingers to trail up Denzel's sides (the smears of blood both brutal and romantic), lightly feeling and caressing every trembling muscle until they came to the youth's chest.  Young, yes, but sculpted nicely in the way that only a young man's body could be.  Training had done them both good, after all.
        The barest whisper, the most constrained plea ever uttered, was voiced without breath.  "Cloud..."
        The blonde's long-held, hard-fought control shattered.  He leaned down and bit sharply at the junction between the boy's neck and shoulder, pulling back as slowly as he could afford himself before the first purposeful thrust.
        They'd both been broken.  Cloud, more often--but that similarity, that understanding, was suddenly both the most significant idea... and utterly insignificant.  There, tangled in the pain and blood, was pleasure.  Kindness, too, in some unexplainable form.  Sensations so powerful that they nearly kissed the lips of Death with their intensity were shared between them like scar stories.
        But, really... for that moment... there were only the two of them.  Indulging in the flesh, the sin, the need...  No thought needed of tomorrow.  Just the strained cries, the desperate grasping of the sheets by white-knuckled hands, the pleading and the promising of every breath.
        It was not without violence.
        It was not without love.
        There were sounds made and sensations suffered that neither imagined before; and then there was that pinprick of an instant where pure light and eternity and something of pleasure beyond mere pleasure met...
        Cloud managed a breathless grunt before collapsing.  Denzel had just finished before him, but the cry rang out; a surprisingly quiet chorus of sounds.
        Warmth... breathing... pain and pleasure and comfort... but cramping.  A little cold moisture, after a while.
        Since Cloud seemed to be the one atop the situation, he finally decided that he may wish to let the youth recover a bit.  Very delicately he withdrew, having regained all of his control at last.  "Do you need materia?"
        "No."  The boy whispered, his voice harsh from the noises made.  He was scared, suddenly.  Terrified in all senses that now, after he'd gotten he blonde to finally grant him what he'd needed... he'd just be abandoned.  Cloud would be disgusted and leave... he'd be left alone, feeling as empty emotionally as he did physically.
        There was a silent, motionless moment.  Not even breath or heartbeats seemed to survive the vacuum around them--
        And then Cloud carefully pulled the sheets back, maneuvering Denzel beneath them... slipping in beside the confused youth.  He understood... far too much of what was going through the boy's head.  Carefully, slowly, he slid one arm underneath Denzel's shoulders, pulling the slightly smaller body toward him.  You won't be alone.  He wanted to say. You don't have the world outside to fear.  You never have to feel you need to prove yourself.  Never to take abuse.  Never to feel you deserve it.  You're no one's puppet, and you will always be strong enough.
        Maybe the thoughts came through his breath... his heartbeat, the heat of his chest against the boy's back...  Whatever it may have been, Denzel's body completely relaxed in his arms.  He went so far as to scoot himself back just a bit more, to be as close to the other body as possible.
        Together, wonder of wonders, they drifted off into a half-conscious sleep.  Their shared warmth, breathing, pulses, life... it was a calm moment of perfection.
 

        A sound.  An interrupting kind of sound.  One that should have startled them both awake, had they not been so absolutely relaxed.
        It was Denzel's sudden realization that made him react at last.  "Tifa!"
        Clouds arms did not let him retreat; he pulled the boy back toward him, an unconcerned whisper on his lips.  "She'll understand.  Until morning.  Then she'll kill us."
        As disconcerting as the words should have been... the dull humor in Cloud's voice drew him back into relative ease.  They were to pretend to be asleep.  That seemed a wonderful plan.  Curling back into comforting arms, Denzel sighed deeply and closed his eyes.
 

        The upstairs was simply too quiet.  Tifa had been terribly angry, yes, but... she hadn't expected her outburst to cause such a stillness.  Perhaps she should check up on Denzel...
        She stood there at his doorway for a moment, gaping ever so slightly at the sight in front of her.  Cloud in Denzel's bed... clothes on the floor...
        She forced a quiet breath, fearing if she did not do so that she may collapse from the lack of oxygen.  So it had finally come to this.  She was neither blind nor stupid; but she did know when to keep her mouth shut.
        There was less to explain than they thought.
        Quietly, she backed out of the room, closing the door behind her.  There were... things to discuss, come morning.  To be certain of.
        As he heard the door shut, Cloud's arms tightened momentarily.  A hug, Denzel realized.  Something to tell him... everything was going to be alright.

        I surprised the hell out of myself by writing this.  Never knew I was capable, so that was a nice surprise.  While I was working on the story, I called it "I'm Going to Hell", which I thought was only appropriate when I had the "Cloud and Denzel do it" plot outline completed.  It became a little more, obviously.  I'm quite satisfied with it on... a number of levels.
        Another freaking mostly happy ending, geez.  I'm getting a little worried about that.  At least this one had blood in it.
        If you'd like to be e-mailed when I update, drop me a line (orin(at)sephain.com) with whatever story/stories/website you'd like me to inform you of.