Final Fantasy - All Series Fan Fiction ❯ Predetermined ❯ Day 7 ( Chapter 7 )

I moaned, probably louder than I should have. He was working me hard, loosening muscles that had never felt human contact before. I lay sprawled across the couch, arms hugging a pillow, my robe thrown to the ground. Tears were beginning to line my eyes from the pain.

 

“That <i>hurts</i>.” I growled.

 

“Good, let's you know you're alive,” Vincent panted with a grunt, the knuckles of both hands kneading into the muscle along my spine. I groaned. The bastard had told me before about the art of massaging and accupressure, but at the time I was lulled into a half sleep, shivering as his hands caressed my body. Now though, I felt like I was taking a beating.

 

“Don't you do like, Tai Chi or something?” Vincent asked, flicking his bangs aside with a jerk of head although they just veiled his eyes again like a curtain.

 

Why did I feel like I was being taken advantage of? Like I was being treated like a baby? Couldn't I amount to <i>something</i>? He had already worked out all the kinks in my lower back and had worked his way back up to my shoulders. When he got to gently massaging my neck again I couldn't stand it. Before I could even stop myself I arched under his touch with a soft moan. His actions stumbled and he stopped. Realizing what I had done and cursing myself to every pit of Hell, I blinked, still faintly blushing, trying in vain to recover myself. Vincent stood from the couch. He sighed as he headed for the door.

 

“I'll give the President our report and see what will do with it. I also suggest you stretch sometime tonight, perhaps before you rest.” I sat up, rubbing my arms. My arm still hurt from Rex's wound, but it'd be all right. My ankle was another thing. How would I get around? I collected my robe, with the intention of putting it back on long enough to get in a suit, but I collapsed almost as soon as I stood.

 

Pain shot through my leg from the sudden shifting of weight and I had to bite my tongue, nearly drawing blood to keep from shouting. Swearing to myself again, the pain slowly faded to a throb. I took my forgotten tea in my hand and drank what was left before I felt good enough to attempt to stand again. I was a casualty of some obscene war and it shamed to feel to helpless, so useless, under the hands of ShinRa. My work wouldn't get done and Rufus would be off to do as he pleased. I was going to call Rude and have him alter my schedule a bit until I could get around better, but I didn't have a cell phone on me. With an exasperated sigh, I took to lounging on the sofa. My second attempt at standing failed just as horribly; if I could have even made it as far as the door, my handicap would still be spotted just trying to get to my apartment.

 

My robe was folded, used for a pillow as I rested, listening to the calm sooth of rain. I must have dozed off for when I awoke I was staring into Vincent's face, the lamp light from the end table the only dim, shaded light in the room. The man had changed into more casual attire, one foot on his knee, arms spread across the back of the couch. My head was in his lap, the back of my hand to my forehead as if in a swoon. I caught myself blushing again and sat up to avert the attention from my flustered cheeks. Why the hell did I feel so self-conscious around him? I took a deep breath, and once I had collected myself, I turned to face him. The amused smile on his face vanished as I looked to him, my eyes hardened, obscuring emotion.

 

“I brought you something to eat,” he said softly with a nod toward the end table next to the couch where a bowl of stew or chowder and some bread sat. Several dainties accompanied a fresh cup of tea.

 

“I've told the boss you'll be off a day or two to recover your ankle. It was more of a favor for status; no one would care to see you limp around ShinRa HQ and try to bark orders at the same time.” Vincent smirked, but I merely ignored him, the jealous anger that he could control me so easily burning my heart.

 

“Thanks I muttered,” more for the food than for the reprieve. I could feel his eyes on me as I took my food on the tray, setting it on my lap and looking at it.

 

“It's not poisoned,” my partner said very quietly when I continued to just look at my food, as if absorbing it by some sort of psychic osmosis. “I tested it myself.” As I started to eat, the silence seemed awkward, as much as I was used to eating with the lack of people or talk, but for whatever reason, just having him watch me inhibited me from wanting to eat.

 

“Something wrong?” he asked when I had left my meal half eaten. I shrugged. “Is it not good?”

 

“No it's delicious.” In all honesty it was. The tea was something different also. It was a sort of iced tea, very pleasant and laced with foam. Vincent smiled, fingers running over the fabric of the couch as he watched me.

 

“Good, I was hoping the seasoning wasn't too bland to your liking.” If I had been eating I would have choked. To my inquisitive expression he chuckled. “Yes I made it myself. The cooks at one of the nicer restaurants allowed me to.”

 

I stared at my food. So….he could cook too, could he? That's one thing I was decent at, but I definitely was not a renowned chef. Again he beat me in another field as it made me bitter. I was too tired to think much of it and as I sipped my teat I couldn't help but think it had sort of a bitter tangy aftertaste. Nonetheless I managed to finish most of my meal. When Vincent had made sure I was done he set the tray aside, mothering me like I was some sick, helpless child, then scooped me in his arms, smiled, and took me away. We were halfway towards the front doors of ShinRa Headquarters before I could say anything, one arm around his neck for fear of being dropped, despite how strong he was.

 

“You're light,” he murmured, hefting me up with a bounce, which only made me cling tighter to his neck. Whatever I was about to say had been lost. Vincent wore a small grin, eyes smiling with a chuckle at having unseated me. We made it to Vincent's car as he helped sit me in the passenger side before closing the door and rounding the hood. I noticed he never ran nor jogged about to places if he was hurried, but merely took long strides, perhaps quickening his pace if need be, but no, never ran nor jogged.

 

“I'll drop you off at your apartment. It's in sector three right?” Vincent asked after starting the engine and turning his headlights on. I nodded.

 

“Ye…yes,” I replied, finding my voice. It was dark on the streets, from rain and clouds, and although the pitter-patter of the storm had stopped, it soon picked up to drizzling and by the time we were at my apartment, it was pouring again. We got drenched just trying to get to the door of my apartment on the second floor. I felt bad for Vincent as he stood in my doorway, dripping as lightening lit up his figure. With both hands on either side of the doorframe, he looked down at me, still taller than I, as I balanced on one foot.

 

“Is your ankle feeling any better?” he asked, thunder threatening to drown out his soft voice.

 

“Yes.”

 

“Good, the medicine I slipped into your tea should let you sleep without disturbance throughout the night; the side effects shouldn't really bother you. Rude will come see you in the morning,” the man told me, pausing to see if there was anything else to remind me of. “Just remember you're off until I say so.” He smiled as I rolled my eyes, stopping myself. That was something I reserved for Reno.

 

As we stood there, waiting for someone to say something, Vincent broke the silence through the sound of rain.

 

“You don't need help do you? I'd tell you not to get your brace wet but I guess it doesn't matter anymore.” He sighed, shoulders slumping as he pulled back in the doorway.

 

“Goodnight,” he said with a nod. I caught him before he could leave. He turned; a questioning look on his face as I held onto his soaked T-shirt. Holy only knows what I was thinking when I pulled him closer and leaned towards him. His hands caught my waist, my frame so much smaller than his as I wrapped a hand around his neck, pulling him down and kissing him. I've no way to figure why, other than it just felt like it was the only chance I had. I whined as he pressed me against the doorframe, strong hands holding me there, kissing back, reluctant as first from surprise, but more complying as my fingers wove their way through wet, glossy, ebony hair, my other hand clutching his shoulder for support. The spray of rain was cool against me.

 

I felt a jolt of panic shoot through me, caught up in adrenaline as he deepened the kiss, tongue gently entering my virgin mouth. I definitely wasn't a good kisser by far, and I knew my inexperience must clearly show, but I felt at ease enough to remain passive and allow him to kiss me however he wanted. He withdrew with a slow sweet kiss, the back of one hand caressing my cheek, and he looked at me, an odd expression of desire and something like fear on his face. I barely saw him through half veiled eyes, still caught up in the moment. He left, turning away, to leave me, still pressed and shivering against the doorframe.

 

So now the power has gone out, I've been contemplating our position with Mina and his men, and sleep has not graced me, so here I sit by candle light, writing the events down in a journal I will burn. Mostly, I'm thinking about Vincent; or trying to avoid thinking about him. Now that I think back to a couple hours previous, I want to curse myself for lack of rational thought. I do want to apologize to him for my actions, but some doubtful voice of reason keeps telling me there's no need to. I <i>liked</i> kissing him. I curse my age, for I know even five or six years from now I will be much wiser and able to control myself. My body's fighting against me but I will not let it win.

 

 

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

 

 

It's later but not much so. Damned, I fear I've consorted to Reno's means. I'm so degraded. With trembling fingers and fevered body, I cannot help but whimper <i>his</i> name: Vincent. A curse, and a blessing, as all cruel and beautiful things are. I cannot possibly think of anything but, so for now it is futile to resist. What else can I say? My thoughts are so forbidden. He is a fascination I seem obsessed with. But how can I possibly work or even concentrate on the daily mundane tasks that beg of my attention if I can think of no other? I fear sleep may never bless me.