Final Fantasy - All Series Fan Fiction ❯ Scattered in the Sky ❯ Two ( Chapter 2 )

Fandom: Final Fantasy IX

Date Finished: April 20th, 2003

Classification: Angst, PWP, not-quite-sort-of Romance

Keywords: In-Game

Pairing: Zidane/Kuja

Rating: NC-17

 

Scattered In The Sky

By Elsewhere

elsewherecw@shaw.ca

 

All other notes and disclaimers in Part One.

 

Part Two

 

*****

"...you're too affected"

You're cool like plastic
With hot looks like an ecologist,

Those burning kisses are irritating

*****

 

“I was kind to you,” he whispered. His face was down-turned, unable to meet Zidane's eyes. “I tried…I tried to be the brother you needed…”

 

“You left me,” Zidane said hoarsely, as he slowly picked himself up off the floor. Kuja was still standing exactly where he'd been, but he was turned away again. “You left me to die on Gaia.”

 

“No! No,” Kuja said, shaking his head. “I left you…near Lindblum…I knew they would find you. I knew…”

 

His voice faltered, grew soft, fell silent.

 

“You're not my brother,” Zidane said quietly, his hands made into fists once again. “You could never be my brother.”

 

He watched Kuja's profile, watched as Kuja closed his eyes, a brief flash of pain crossing his face.

 

“Look at me,” Zidane said, voice lowered almost to a whisper, almost a breath in the still, dark air. “Look at me, Kuja.”

 

No response. Kuja remained still, eyes closed, hands listlessly against his sides.

 

Zidane raised his voice.

 

“Look at me, Kuja,” he commanded. He felt different, stronger…was this what it was like to be the Angel of Death?

 

Kuja's head lifted, his eyes opened, and he turned, slowly, hesitantly. But he didn't lift his eyes, refused to look up.

 

“You can't, can you?” Zidane breathed, something like wonder shuddering through his chest. “You can't bring yourself to look me in the eyes for more than two seconds. Why?”

 

Kuja remained silent, lips sealed as he stared at the marble beneath his feet.

 

“Kuja,” he said again, so softly that he watched a ripple of response move over Kuja's body. Kuja shivered, then lifted his hands to rub over his arms as though he were cold. His face turned away, eyes closing again. “Kuja, look at me.”

 

This time, the First Angel obeyed, opening his eyes and fixing with disturbing intensity on Zidane. Zidane peered deep into those dark, chilling blue eyes, so deeply that he found himself walking forward, until he was right in front of Kuja, and Kuja was catching his breath again as Zidane reached up and cupped a hand around his chin, holding him in place.

 

Zidane was silent for a long moment, unwilling to do or say anything to destroy the moment as he let himself simply fall into the fathomless blue depths of Kuja's eyes. There was something there, something he'd never seen before…and it occurred to him why. Not once, in all the times that he and Kuja had come face to face during the last few months…never *once* had Kuja looked him in the eyes for more than a few seconds at a time. Never long enough to get a good look, to probe deep and find the guilty secret…

 

“Is this why?” Zidane whispered wonderingly, his hand still firmly holding Kuja's chin. Zidane's eyes moved slightly, taking in the rest of Kuja's face…long, soft silver eyelashes, brilliant red eye-shadow, pale cheeks framed by feathery silver hair…he was beautiful. Stunningly beautiful, his face round and baby-shaped, just like Zidane's…so alike, and yet so different…

 

“Is this why you won't look at me?” Zidane pressed, tone becoming harder again. “The secret you're hiding?”

 

He knew the look in Kuja's eyes…he knew it well.

 

Fear.

 

His hand dropped away, finally releasing his hold on Kuja's chin.

 

“You could never be my brother,” Zidane whispered, and again Kuja flinched, and Zidane knew he'd hurt him, more deeply than he'd thought possible, with such simple words. Kuja tried to look away again, but Zidane's eyes held him spellbound, beautiful blue and entrancing. “You could never take the place of my brother, Kuja, not anymore…because…”

 

Kuja caught his breath.

 

“Because you're so much more than that,” Zidane breathed, and then in the next second his hands were bunched in Kuja's jacket again, pulling him closer, pulling him downward, and Zidane was pressing his lips up against Kuja's…and the world exploded in heat.

 

*****

A specialist bound by romance

Long fingernails got me erect
An egoist who wants to confirm love

I want to struggle on until I'm inside of you

*****

 

Kuja groaned, low in his throat, the sound swallowed by the eager touch of Zidane's lips and tongue. Kuja's hands were clutching Zidane's arms, even as Zidane tugged on Kuja's armor, trying to pull him closer, but there was no space left between them. Then, just as abruptly as it had begun, it was over…Kuja's eyes had snapped open, and then his hands were against Zidane's shoulders, pushing him away. Zidane stumbled back, and watched as Kuja spun on his heel and quickly strode across the room, hands running through his hair as he took several deep breaths. He could hear the steady stream of Kuja's inner monologue, as clearly as if it were his own, deep within his mind.

 

Wasn't supposed to happen…no, never…can't be…didn't mean…mm…too much…lost…control…

 

/Well,/ Zidane thought to himself with a wry smile, /Never let it be said that Kuja wasn't a complete and utter nutcase./

 

Kuja was so busy silently chastising himself that he failed to notice when Zidane crept up behind him, didn't have any idea what was coming until Zidane's hands closed over his bare waist, lightly stroking his hips. Zidane let out a soft, rasping chuckle at the way Kuja jumped, spinning around and then backing away, one step, then two.

 

Zidane shook his head slightly, smirking a bit, the look in his eyes nothing short of predatory as he moved towards Kuja. Kuja opened his mouth, as though he was about to say something---for a moment, he actually looked *stern*, as though he was about to chide Zidane for bad behavior---but then he fell silent again as Zidane stepped up, this time reaching up to run his hands back through Kuja's hair. Kuja's eyes slid closed and he breathed in the scent of Zidane standing so close to him.

 

“All this time,” Zidane murmured against Kuja's chin…it was the only thing he could reach without tilting his face up. His eyes had fallen closed as well, willing to feel without needing to see. “All this time, you've been so hateful…and you loved me…”

 

“Little one…” Kuja began, but Zidane placed a finger against his lips, stilling them.

 

“Not anymore, Kuja,” he said, his voice low, almost sultry. Then he was kissing Kuja, pushing him to the floor, and Kuja wasn't resisting in the slightest. Instead, his hands were again clutching Zidane's arms, his lips hungrily questing over Zidane's, their tongues battling as Zidane pressed Kuja to the cold marble. His hands worked quickly, pushing away Kuja's jacket and armor, drawing Kuja's arms out until they were free, and then he was bent over Kuja's chest, lips questing along the muscled, hairless plane. Kuja's hands were deftly working at Zidane's cravat, then his shirt, pushing everything aside as he fought hyperventilation at the sensation of Zidane's lips questing along his stomach, even as Zidane's hands carefully removed Kuja's boots. A long moan escaped Kuja's mouth as Zidane's hands carefully drew away his codpiece, metal clinking against the floor before Zidane's hands closed firmly around bare flesh.

 

*****

More

Deeper
As those almost maddening lips

I've gotten used to melt together
I am...Your...Vanilla

*****

 

Zidane bent down just in time, swallowing Kuja's scream into his mouth, drawing Kuja into another lingering kiss as his fingers ran up and down the length of Kuja's erection. He closed one hand firmly around the base as his other hand moved down, beneath Kuja's thighs, grabbing onto the now-loose fabric of the half-skirt and shoving it away, until Kuja was naked against nothing but the chill marble of the floor. Then Zidane used the free hand to undo his own jeans and try to push them down his hips---Kuja's hands had long since stopped helping, instead clutching restlessly at the smooth surface of the floor---but it wasn't working.

 

With a soft growl of frustration, Zidane considered his options, then smirked slightly when he figured out what he could do. Kuja had no warning, nothing more than that slight smirk he watched flash over Zidane's babyish face before the younger man dove downwards. Kuja screamed again, one hand coming up to his face, covering his mouth, trying to drown his own helpless sounds of pleasure as Zidane's mouth nimbly wound its way around the tip of Kuja's erection.

 

His hands thus freed, Zidane pushed his pants down his hips, stopping just long enough to loop his tail out of the hole at the back before he leaned up slightly, balancing precariously as he drew his pants off first one leg, then the other, all without any damaging effect to Kuja, whom he cradled so easily in his mouth. He kicked away his boots, and closed his eyes at the cold that seeped into his skin. He was entirely naked.

 

Kuja was panting now, writhing against the floor, obviously trying to contain his urge to thrust upwards, and Zidane smiled slightly against Kuja's flesh, bobbing his head in time to the mild gyrations of Kuja's hips. Kuja bucked, unable to contain himself, and his mind whispered something akin to an apology into Zidane's mind even as Zidane's hands pressed Kuja's hips into the floor. Kuja groaned restlessly when Zidane's hands lingered to explore, running over the smooth hourglass curves, fingers pressing into the slight, feminine bulge of Kuja's abdomen. Kuja's tail had freed itself from where it had been trapped beneath his legs and was coiling around Zidane's leg, snaking up towards Zidane's own hips, identical to Kuja's in shape and form.

 

“Zidane…” Kuja moaned, almost begging, and Zidane lifted his head away from Kuja's flesh, eyes moving upwards to meet Kuja's gaze. Kuja's eyelashes were lowered over his eyes, but he stared at Zidane from beneath them, willing him upwards until Zidane's lips pressed to his, engaging him in another intense kiss. Two strong, fierce wills met and clashed as Zidane's hands tried to press Kuja to the marble and Kuja's hands pushed up, fighting back for the first time. They struggled for a moment, tongues tangling as Kuja lifted himself away from the floor and wrestled against the smaller man above him.

 

“He said I'm so much like you,” Zidane murmured against Kuja's mouth, even as his greater strength started to exert itself; it was the first time he had realized it, but he felt it now, coursing through his veins as his hands caught Kuja's wrists and trapped them against the floor. His knee was gently pressing into Kuja's stomach, threatening, and Kuja was flat on his back again, not willing to risk the tender flesh of his belly. Kuja's eyes were flashing with some cross of annoyance and desire when Zidane met them once more. He grinned, shrugging once before he bent, keeping his hold on Kuja's wrists, holding them on either side of Kuja's head. This time the kiss was long and sweet, and it tasted of submission.

 

Kuja was breathing hard when Zidane broke for air, watching from under lowered lashes as Zidane spat on his fingers and then bent between Kuja's legs, his other hand still holding a wrist as he pressed his fingers gently to Kuja's entrance. He didn't glance up, didn't seek permission---that part was over---and then he was piercing inside, first one finger, and then after a moment two, questing within, fingertips brushing over Kuja's prostate. Kuja groaned, long and low, his tail coming up to wrap around Zidane's upper arm, squeezing, encouraging.

 

A few moments later, though, when Zidane bent closer, fingers drawing away and hips dangerously close to Kuja's, Kuja's free hand, large and undeniably masculine, slammed up against Zidane's shoulder, shoving him backwards. Zidane fell back with a startled grunt, his other hand releasing Kuja's wrist, eyes flying up, seeking a reason. Kuja just smirked, looking up at him from the floor for a moment before he got up. Slowly, his movements as sinuous as those of a panther, tail writhing in the air like some sort of tame snake, Kuja turned over and got up on his hands and knees. Then he glanced back and lifted both eyebrows, as if to ask what Zidane thought he was doing all the way over *there*.

 

Zidane snorted with laughter before he managed to contain himself, and after shaking his head, grinning like a fool, he crawled forward and knelt behind Kuja. He glanced downwards. He didn't have anything for lube, but he had a feeling…

 

Kuja moaned, soft and deep in his throat, once again glancing back as if to ask Zidane what the hell he was doing.

 

/Scratch that,/ Zidane thought…he was pretty damn sure Kuja wasn't exactly in need of any preparation at this point.

 

Still smirking, Zidane pressed up behind Kuja's thighs, and his grin widened when Kuja's tail wound around his waist. One hand at the small of Kuja's back, and the other closed around his own erection, he positioned himself and then carefully guided himself inside. Kuja wasn't much help; he didn't seem to want to take things slow, instead bucking back against Zidane, driving him deeper and then groaning at the sensation of the penetration, which only made Zidane shudder, barely able to keep from thrusting himself inside all at once.

 

“Hold still,” he commanded softly, the hand tightening slightly over Kuja's back. The other hand was now on Kuja's hip, holding him firmly in place. Kuja let out a sound caught somewhere amusingly between a whimper and a growl, and dropped his head to rest against his arms, crossed on the floor. Keeping his grip steady, Zidane eased himself the rest of the way into Kuja's body, groaning softly at the sensation of Kuja's flesh closing tight around him. Kuja, for his part, was obviously beyond words and into ecstasy, his breath panting out sharply as he pressed his forehead to his crossed arms.

 

“Ready?” Zidane murmured, adjusting his grip on Kuja's waist, stroking his fingers lightly along the curve of Kuja's hip.

 

If you don't do something *right* now, I'm going to kill you, a desperate voice whispered in his mind, but aloud, all Kuja let out was a quiet moan as he nodded.

 

“Whatever you say,” Zidane agreed with a slight chuckle before he braced himself.

 

*****

Is it okay to love, too?

In the shaking night
It's good as it is

"I've seen a tail"
It's almost embarrassing

I've fallen for you

*****

 

Oh…gods…

 

He'd never felt anything like this, never felt this burning heat. It wasn't enough…he kept driving forward, seeking more, burying himself deeper with every stroke, and he could hear Kuja's incoherent sounds, wild and broken. It obviously wasn't enough for Kuja either; within seconds he had lifted his head away, and then struggled up so that his hands were flat against the floor. He was on all fours, and he had greater control now, pressing back to meet every thrust of Zidane's hips against his. Zidane's hands were against the floor too, on either side of Kuja, as he bent over Kuja's back, lips brushing along Kuja's backbone, his teeth now and then closing over sensitive skin, making Kuja arch under the touch.

 

More…harder… Kuja's breathless mental voice demanded, and Zidane moaned, unable to respond with more than a physical reaction, hands tightening against the floor as his thrusts increased their intensity, driving deeper, angling closer to Kuja's prostate with every slow, driving motion. Zidane! Deeper…closer…

 

This is as close…as I can get… Zidane gasped back a moment later, too drawn up in the moment to even notice that he'd finally managed to project into Kuja's mind as easily as the older Genome did into his.

 

Oh…Zidane… came the responding moan as Kuja dropped his forehead and braced himself against the floor, holding himself entirely still now, letting Zidane take over the motion, allowing Zidane to thrust deeper. Oh…gods…I can't…I…

 

The words trailed off into a wordless scream as Kuja came; Zidane felt warm liquid splash over his hand and grinned, pressing his forehead tighter against Kuja's back as he sped up his motions.

 

“Damn…Kuja…I never thought…”

 

This attempt was cut off, all thought swept away abruptly as he followed Kuja into the abyss, his mind spiraling away into sheer bliss as his body emptied into Kuja's. Kuja's hips undulated back against his, encouraging him, milking him through the last of his reaction until he started to come down. When he finally found it again, Zidane let out his breath, long and slow, against Kuja's back, and he felt Kuja shudder beneath him. Kuja had collapsed forward, once again resting his forehead against his arms, crossed over the black marble floor. It had to hurt his back, but he was obviously long past the point of caring.

 

Slowly, giving himself time to adjust to every motion, Zidane lifted himself until he was kneeling straight up again, and then he brought his hands down to rest gently around the slender curve of Kuja's waist, holding carefully as he withdrew. Kuja let out a sigh that might have been disappointment at the loss, and then as soon as Zidane was free, Kuja turned and collapsed onto his back, a hand coming up to trace over his stomach, sticky with his own fluids. At the same time, his tail slowly uncoiled itself from around Zidane's waist and slumped to the floor. Kuja's eyes were closed, breathing quick and sharp as he tried to regain himself.

 

Slowly, cautiously, as though afraid that Kuja might take flight now that it was over, Zidane lowered himself beside Kuja, lying by his side. His hand came up and traced the line of Kuja's cheekbone, and Kuja's eyes flew open, moving up, seeking Zidane's eyes. Zidane smiled, gently---he could afford to be gentle now---and slowly, Kuja smiled back, a genuine smile that didn't twist his face into something hideous and cruel. His hand traced back through Zidane's hair, parting it and then letting it fall, a cascade of honey-gold softness.

 

After that Zidane seemed to lose himself for a time…he wasn't sure if he slept, but when he next opened his eyes, Kuja was sitting across from him, snapping his metal codpiece back into place. His chest armor was already in place, and as soon as he finished with the clasp of the codpiece, he reached out for his half-skirt.

 

“Where are you going?” Zidane asked, instantly frowning as he sat up.

 

“It's time,” Kuja said simply, in a hard, unyielding voice, but when he turned and saw the troubled look on Zidane's face, his expression softened ever so slightly and he smiled again. But the smile didn't reach his eyes…he looked so tired, and so much older… “It's time, Zidane.”

 

Zidane was silent, swallowing back the harsh sting of his disappointment. He'd almost managed to forget reality…it was easy to forget, here in this place, black and cold.

 

“I don't want to kill you,” Kuja said softly, reaching out a gentle hand to brush Zidane's cheek, so tenderly, like a lover…not an enemy.

 

“You won't,” Zidane assured him sadly, and Kuja's eyes grew closed off, almost as though he too was aware of what the outcome of this day would be, and he wasn't willing to face it.

 

“Farewell, Zidane,” Kuja said quietly, and then, almost impulsively, he leaned forward and brushed a kiss, warm and alive, over Zidane's forehead. His hands clutched Zidane's shoulders for a moment, and then he was on his feet, quickly making his way to the nearest shining black wall. He placed a hand against it, and it dissolved around him, just enough to allow his passage. He moved through the opening and disappeared, and the black closed off, smooth and hard again.

 

Zidane sighed and leaned back against the floor, reaching up a hand to brush away the tears at his eyes before he slid his eyelids closed and waited for what now seemed inevitable.

 

*****

Is it okay to love, too?

In the shaking night
It's good as it is

More

You are
As those almost maddening hips I've gotten used to melt together
You are...My...keeper…

*****

 

He opened his eyes, then blinked them rapidly, startled to find himself still standing in space. The others were right behind him, now watching him oddly, trying to figure out what he was doing. He had a feeling something had just happened…hadn't he just been somewhere else…?

 

But where? He couldn't remember…

 

“Zidane?” Dagger's soft voice asked again, and once more he felt her touch at his shoulder.

 

He felt cold. So cold…

 

“Did you guys just…? Was I…here, just now?” he asked, and when he turned around, he could see the confusion on all of their faces. Amarant smirked, as if to say that he'd known Zidane was nuts all along.

 

“Er…never mind,” he said, scratching his head and frowning as he tried to grasp onto the fading memory in his mind. What had he just been…? There was something important…

 

But it was gone.

 

“Ah, what the hell,” he said with a casual shrug, waving his hands for the others to follow. “Let's go, guys.”

 

He turned around, facing forward once more, his eyes on the green light glowing in the distance.

 

“Time we kill this bastard,” he said quietly, hand pulling into a fist as he pictured the final fight.

 

/I'm coming, Kuja./

 

/Time to die./

 

*****

 

THE END

 

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