Final Fantasy - All Series Fan Fiction ❯ Shattered Children ❯ Interlude 04: Stunted Motion ( Chapter 12 )

a/n: Big thanks to everyone who reads this and reviews. I know I may not respond to your comments, but I assure you, I enjoy every comment you leave behind. I do hope you continue to enjoy this!

 

Shattered Children: Interlude Four

Stunted Motion

Tseng/Sephiroth

 

Sephiroth moaned, the sound slipping through his lips before he could stop it, head falling back against the pillow behind him. His body was covered in a faint sheen of sweat as he succumbed to the sweet mouth wrapped around his arousal, working him so effortlessly to a climax.

 

He might not have had years of experience, but that didn't mean much. He was absolutely certain that no one could have been more talented than Tseng, that tongue and those lips applying the perfect pressure as they passed over the length of his erection. The tip of Tseng's tongue flicked out against him and his hips bucked automatically, body shuddering in need.

 

Tseng rode out the motion in a well-practiced move, one hand sliding up to settle on Sephiroth's bare hip and hold him down. The former General tried to hold back, but the pleasure was too great and he thrust upwards, seeking more of the wet warmth. He had never known that it could feel like this, having assumed that the rumors he'd heard on the subject were merely rumors and he was missing out on nothing. He had been so wrong.

 

A gasp slipped from his lips, one of his hands clutched onto the covers as a fire begin to curl in his belly, twisting and turning. The other clenched onto nothing before falling to Tseng's hold on his hip, fingers digging into the Turk's hand. That tongue worked him mercilessly, and there was a faint scrape of teeth against the sensitive skin. Tseng sucked at the head of his length before going deeper, taking Sephiroth into his throat.

 

The former general was in absolute bliss, body shuddering as it neared its climax and bathed in sweat. A part of him wanted to hold on to this ecstasy forever, never surrendering to his release, even if he knew it was impossible. Sephiroth dragged his lip between his teeth, trying to stop the almost embarrassing sounds that were pouring from his mouth.

 

He could feel his pulse pounding through his body, making him break out into a warm sweat of need and want. His hips kept jerking, despite Tseng's hold on them, and all he wanted to do was spill into that warm mouth. That tongue worked him without ending, swiping and doing wonderful things that kept him on the edge of bliss, and Sephiroth groaned, the taste of copper dancing on his tongue as he bit his lip.

 

It was no use. He couldn't hold back even if he wanted to. He felt the coiling and the twisting in his gut first, the throbbing of his arousal against Tseng's tongue. The head of his shaft bobbed against the back of the Turk's throat and Tseng swallowed, his throat massaging Sephiroth's length. It was simply more than he could take.

 

Fingers digging into the covers with enough strength to rip the cotton material, Sephiroth shoved his head back against the pillow and bucked, releasing into his lover's mouth. Ecstasy rattled through him, ignoring his attempts to clamp down on his cries and releasing a pleased groan into the room. And, through it all, Tseng's mouth never stopped its torture, swallowing him easily. A part of Sephiroth was inexplicably jealous, though it was dulled by the pleasure still racking his body.

 

He panted, body thrumming happily as Tseng let the softening organ slip from his mouth and moved upwards. Sephiroth didn't even protest as Tseng kissed him, his own fingers moving to tangle in long, dark hair. The kiss was sloppy and messy, more hungry and open-mouthed than gentle and loving. He could taste himself on Tseng's tongue and it was a weird flavor, but he endured it because it didn't matter.

 

Their bodies came together, warmth blanketing warmth. Sephiroth could feel Tseng's arousal pressing against one of his legs, demanding and rigid, even as he wrapped his other arm around Tseng's back, holding the Turk against him. Tseng growled in his throat, grinding his hips sinuously against Sephiroth's leg. The sound was absolutely sexy, threatening to awaken Sephiroth's libido once more.

 

One of Tseng's hands pressed against the bed for balance as the other gripped Sephiroth's shoulder, their tongues tangling together until Tseng broke the kiss. He dropped his mouth to Sephiroth's throat, nipping and licking, always fascinated by the red marks he caused that healed all too quickly. The mattress gave a tiny squeak of discomfort but it was promptly ignored, heat filling the room.

 

Sephiroth had learned of reciprocation in their gradually growing relationship and, without further adieu, he freed one of his arms,sliding it between their bodies. His fingers found Tseng's arousal and massaged the taut flesh through the layer of cloth separating them. Tseng moaned, his breath hot and heavy against Sephiroth's throat and he bucked into the touch.

 

With a great surge, Sephiroth managed to roll them over, Tseng helping him somewhat. His hand moved from touching to unbuttoning Tseng's pants, even as his mouth sought out the Turks once more. He had quickly grown to enjoy kissing, their mouths openly pressing together and lips crashing with a hint of impatience. Tseng's hips bucked against his hand as he dragged down the zipper, his fingers diving beneath the fabric to cup the hardened length.

 

A sigh came from Tseng's lips and his breath hitched as he wrapped his fingers around Sephiroth's arm, squeezing faintly in encouragement.

 

Sephiroth gathered his courage and began to work his way down Tseng's body, momentarily mouthing a nipple through dark cloth before continuing in his path. His heart was pounding in his chest, but he was determined to give it a try. It seemed only fair after all, and the sounds emanating from Tseng's throat continued to encourage him.

 

His trailed his fingers down Tseng's length, thumbing a pearly drop that had gathered at the tip. Sephiroth positioned himself between the Turk's legs and stared at the organ in front of him, angry red with need. He stroked Tseng with his fingers, his own arousal tightening as the Turk moaned, legs spreading to accommodate him.

 

He could do this.

 

Sephiroth lowered his head and closed his mouth over the tip of Tseng's arousal, gently curling his tongue around the head. The resulting hitch of breath from his lover was worth the moment's discomfort. He lightly stroked the base of Tseng's shaft, and tried to go further, attempting to take more of the organ into his mouth.

 

Completely unbidden, memories chose that moment to crop up around him. He remembered another moment, another time, far back in the past. The feel of flesh, hard and hot, sliding into his mouth. He remembered choking on the bitter taste as it slid down his throat, like boiling liquid, harsh and burning. He remembered trying to breathe but unable to, being forced to take the thick organ.

 

There was a penis hitting the back of his throat, bruising his mouth and his flesh. He knew he was choking on it, but it wouldn't fall back. His lips were cut and bleeding, thin fingers digging into his skull. They pushed his head forward, forcing him to take more of the disgusting thing deeper. He could remember the scent of the assailant, and the sound of heavy breathing, raspy with a hint of disdain.

 

Nausea rolled through Sephiroth, along with the bitter feeling of absolutely loathing. Even though he knew that logically the circumstances were nowhere near the same, he couldn't stop the bile from wanting to rise. He suddenly wanted a bath in boiling hot water, perhaps even dousing himself in the burn of mako. Anything to get rid of the sudden tainted feeling that coursed through him.

 

“Sephiroth?”

 

Tseng's voice snapped him from his daze and he realized that some long moment had passed since he had taken his lover into his mouth. The Turk's organ had long since slipped from his lips and he had been staring into nothing. Sephiroth blinked slowly, the memories echoing in the back of his mind.

 

Silver eyes turned towards him, filling with concern. He reached for Sephiroth, the worry chasing away all thoughts of arousal. Angry at himself, the former general pulled back out of Tseng's reach as the nightmares continued to play across the back of mind, like scattered, stilted scenes of horror. Sephiroth slipped off the bed, trying to ignore the look in his lover's eyes.

 

He turned his back on Tseng, reaching for his loosened pants and hastily tucking himself away. Any arousal he might have held had died in the face of his nightmarish memories.

 

“I have to go,” Sephiroth said rather lamely, already stumbling towards the door to Tseng's bedroom.

 

He couldn't help but wonder what had caused his normally rational and composed mindset to fly out the window. He could remember feeling some uncertainty, at times, but he'd never dealt with it like this, by running away like a frightened coward.

 

The mattress squeaked in protest, comforters rustling. “Sephiroth, wait!” Tseng fumbled to rise and chase after him. The sound of him dragging up his pants and nearly tripping on their length, displaying none of his usual grace, filled the tense silence.

 

Sephiroth pretended as if he couldn't hear, didn't even notice. “I have to go,” he repeated, unable to come up with something better.

 

His heart was racing as he yanked open the door and stepped out into the hallway. He was at the main entrance in a flash, sliding sock covered feet into his boots and grabbing his jacket with one hand. He heard the keys rattle inside one of the pockets, and relief spread through him knowing he wouldn't have to spend precious time searching for them.

 

Tseng moved more quickly than he would have expected, however, and caught him before he could even open the front door. His fingers curled around Sephiroth's upper arm, dragging him to a halt, and Sephiroth could only hope that the telepath couldn't see what was flashing inside his brain. He prayed that Tseng's concern would override his instinctual curiosity. The images floating around in his brain were something he never wanted anyone else to see.

 

The feeling of needing to vomit rose up again and Sephiroth swore he could taste the bile in the back of his throat. He heard distant grunts of ecstasy, felt the phantom bruising fingers on his skin leavings marks that the mako would soon burn away.

 

“Talk to me,” Tseng said, and he made it sound so simple.

 

Though he had no real desire to, Sephiroth turned to look at his lover, and all he could see was that man. Logically, he knew that Tseng was standing there and not Hojo. Rationally, he knew that Tseng's eyes were brighter, his hair cleaner, his concern more genuine, his touch gentler. The small part of him that remained sane knew that they weren't the same, but with the madness banking behind him, and the nightmares crashing across his eyes... he was staring into the past.

 

Sephiroth shook his head, closing his eyes against the images. “I have to go,” was was the only consolation he could give the Turk as he pulled his arm free. In the same motion, he practically ripped the door of its hinges and disappeared beyond it, slamming it shut behind him with a sense of finality.

 

He didn't feel safe until he was far down the hallway and in the elevator, going down the ten or so floors that would take him to the garage below the building. His entire body was shaking, the sickness and disgust making him pale and weak. A cold sweat had broken out over his body, forcing Sephiroth to wonder faintly if he was finally going to lose it.

 

He hadn't even managed more than a few seconds of providing pleasure to his lover, leaving him in the lurch, and yet, Sephiroth could still taste the bitter seed burning the back of his throat. He scraped a hand over his face, wishing he could just wash out the images, but the several deep, steadying breaths he had time for did nothing to bring him control.

 

In his pocket, he felt his phone buzz. It was, more likely than not, Tseng trying to talk to him, trying to figure out what had gone wrong, but Sephiroth ignored it. He knew he couldn't bring himself to explain anything at the moment, not with the reminder so fresh. He vaguely wondered if that noise in the back of his mind was Jenova cackling at him.

 

The elevator dinged, dropping to a halt and making his stomach lurch violently. The door slid open, releasing him into the parking garage. Sephiroth wasted no time in climbing onto his bike, telling himself that he wasn't running away. Not really. He just needed time to figure this out on his own, time to find some sense in the craziness and to determine just what the hell Hojo had done to him.

 

His bike came to life with a roar that echoed in the half-full garage and Sephiroth revved the engine, speeding out of the building. He knew his mind probably had some final destination in mind, but he didn't know for sure, nor did he particularly care. He had handled the whole situation poorly, that much was obvious, and he mentally sent an apology to Tseng for having been such an insensitive prick.

 

Perhaps men like him really weren't meant for relationships after all.

 

Back in the apartment, Tseng ended the call before his phone had even finished ringing. Sephiroth would have already answered if it had intended to do so. His fingers tightened around the cell, the plastic groaning under the pressure, before he tossed it onto the hall table. They were expensive to replace.

 

He was confused, unsure what to call the emotions rolling inside of him, though he knew some of them were remnants of Sephiroth's pain. But, from that single, unasked for glimpse into the man's mind, Tseng was certain anger was also part of it.

 

He had the urge to punch the wall, kick the door, do something violent because there was no real outlet for his anger. The one who had caused it was already dead, destroyed by one Cid Highwind, and yet, he hadn't even begun to pay for his misdeeds. There was no hell deep enough for Euphraim Hojo.

 

Knowing that Sephiroth was remembering more and more each day made him sick, and he also knew that there was no way Sephiroth ever planned on telling him. He doubted even Zack knew.

 

A part of Tseng wished he had never discovered the sordid truth. But, he had, and now he had to deal with the consequences of knowing. If he had been any less of a man, he would have proclaimed Sephiroth beyond his capacity to handle and simply turned away; if his feelings had been any less sincere, he would have abandoned the man long before. But, Tseng was already in too deep, and he knew there was no way out of the hole his emotions had landed him in.

 

With a defeated sigh, Tseng reached out and flicked off the light in the hall. He wandered through the house, turning off the rest of the lights and such, preparing to go to sleep. There really was no reason to stay up by himself.

 

He went to bed, but with his thoughts so jumbled and confused, it did him little good. He stayed up most of the night brooding, and it was only in the early hours of the morning that he finally managed to fall asleep, only to wake up not long after in order to head into the office. He felt ragged and tired, weariness pulling at his bones like a physical weight.

 

Tseng dressed in a sleepy daze, grabbing the necessities and locking up his apartment. He was at the office in a matter of minutes, easy enough when one lived in the same building as his workplace. Heading directly for the employee room and the aged coffee pot, he heard the sweet sound of the machine gurgling out the morning's first pot. Zack must have been by already; he made the best coffee.

 

He poured himself a full cup and sipped at the steaming liquid, choking it down black to wake himself up with the bitter taste. He usually preferred sugar and cream until it was the color of pale mocha, but some situations called for something stronger.

 

He blew on the coffee to cool it down and absentmindedly wandered back towards his temporary office, mind still churning with the nightmares he had siphoned from Sephiroth unintentionally. As he rounded to the corner, he was surprised to find that someone was already waiting outside the door for him.

 

Tseng blinked. “Sephiroth?”

 

After much effort, those gray-green eyes lifted to his. “Are you busy?”

 

The Turk shook his head. “I wouldn't be able to tell you,” he responded, still trying to overcome his shock, “having not had the chance to see my desk yet this morning.”

 

The smile that broke onto Sephiroth's lips looked strained as he moved aside. Tseng pulled out his key with one hand, sliding it into the lock and opening the door.

 

“You can come in though,” Tseng added, pushing his way inside and leaving the door open in invitation.

 

“Thank you.”

 

Tseng stepped into his office and moved across the floor to his desk. He circled around it, setting the coffee on its heating mat and powered up his computer with a press of his finger. His office was anally organized as usual, yet he couldn't resist glaring daggers at the pile of paperwork stacked in his IN box. It didn't make any sense how much he had when the only person he reported to was Reeve. Then again, their investors liked to see a paper trail.

 

A light chuckle pierced his thoughts and he looked up to find that Sephiroth was watching him. “That is the same look I used to give my own paperwork,” he explained.

 

Tseng arched one brow, the tension between them slowly lightening its grip as they worked through it. “The Great General had paperwork?”

 

“More than I was willing to sign,” Sephiroth responded, fidgeting slightly in an uncharacteristic motion. He remained in the office, however, looking determined.

 

The Turk Commander sipped his coffee, holding back his blanch at the taste. He sat down at his desk, watching Sephiroth over the rim. His lover looked pale still, and definitely awkward, but also resolute. A small part of Tseng couldn't help but begin to fear that Sephiroth had come to end it. He had shown up rather quickly after leaving so suddenly and, usually, he needed more than half a night to get over something.

 

He knew that their relationship wasn't perfect and that really, they weren't moving forward at all. But he had wanted this for so long, and he'd never been one to give up on something that really mattered. It was part of the Turk motto, after all. He couldn't just abandon Sephiroth either, not after what he'd seen. Pity was the last thing Sephiroth would want from him, but he was also certain that pity had nothing to do with it.

 

Despite all the troubles, Tseng didn't want it to be over. He had so much left to learn.

 

His mug hit the desk top and Tseng opened his mouth, fully intending to make his plea in a manner that didn't sound like he was begging. “Sephiroth--”

 

“All I've ever known is the military,” the General interrupted him before he could even begin that sentence, his eyes shifting to the side. “The military and... that man.”

 

Silver eyes raised to the former General, that man easily identified without him having to ask. He remained silent, patiently waiting for his lover to continue. He knew that Sephiroth did not need to be prompted, that he was just trying to find the right words.

 

He watched as Sephiroth swallowed thickly, but his hands remained unclenched at his sides. It was a testament to his composure that Sephiroth wasn't fidgeting. A part of Tseng recognized that he was drawing on the General's learned composure right now, if only to keep from wanting to run away. There were small threads of fear and disgust still in his emotions, but there was also a hefty amount of purpose there as well.

 

“I've always known that they were doing experiments on me, but I had assumed it was nothing unusual to SOLDIER,” Sephiroth continued, his tone purposefully blank. “I had no idea that Jenova was not my mother, but an alien creature from beyond the stars. However, I was aware that Hojo was my father. He took great pride in constantly telling me so.”

 

Tseng inclined his head, fingers curling around the warmth of his coffee. “They were lying to you,” he said softly. “Nothing unusual for ShinRa.”

 

“The truth would have meant their deaths,” Sephiroth answered. “They never expected me to be human, never tried to show me how. Until I met Zack, I didn't know what it meant to live. I'd only... existed.”

 

His words dropped into the room and Tseng absorbed them, feeling something inside him clench at just the thought. Sephiroth, who was never meant to be anything more than a machine... no wonder he couldn't understand his own feelings, or anything else.

 

“Why are you telling me this?” Tseng asked, after the moment of contemplative silence. “If this is an apology or a way to make up for--”

 

“That's not it,” Sephiroth insisted a bit forcefully, face flushing. “I'm telling you so you can understand.”

 

The Turk blinked. He already understood that much about his lover, why would Sephiroth need to reiterate it? He sat back into his chair, fingers touching the mug but not drinking it.

 

Sephiroth sighed and raked a hand through his hair, another nervous gesture that he had somehow acquired recently. “I don't remember much,” he began again. “I don't know if it's because I've died, or if it's Jenova or the Planet or what... but I can't remember a good bit of my life. Zack told me that when he woke on that island, he couldn't either. But his memories are coming back a lot faster than mine, and... I think it's because I'm subconsciously blocking what I don't want to remember.”

 

Confusion rippled through Tseng but he nodded slowly. “That makes sense, all things considered.”

 

Shifting position a bit awkwardly, Sephiroth continued, “But when I do remember, it's usually triggered by something and it can be... startling.” Which was putting it rather mildly, but Sephiroth felt no need to add that particular comment. “I apologize for leaving without explanation last night.”

 

Tseng felt his breath expel slowly, relief spreading through him. Sephiroth was not trying to end it. And even though he had been upset last night, he no longer felt the same today. His anger had bled out to become a slow burning. With nothing to direct it towards, it could only fizzle out in its uselessness. In the end, he had only been able to promise himself that he would never demand anything of Sephiroth that the man couldn't give.

 

“Apology accepted.” Tseng said, and then abruptly shifted gears. “Are you busy tonight?”

 

The former General blinked. “You're not going to ask?”

 

“Would you tell me if I did?”

 

“...”

 

He had suspected as much.

 

Tseng took a sip of his coffee and rose to his feet, leaving the bitter liquid on his desk. “It's only been a couple of months. If you're not ready to tell me yet, I understand.”

 

It wasn't that he didn't want to know, or that he thought Sephiroth shouldn't tell someone about what had happened to him. But, Tseng understood that trying to press Sephiroth for anything was only going to drive his away. Perhaps later, after they'd become more certain of their relationship, he could convince the man to talk to him. But, for the present, just being with him and for him was enough.

 

Relief spread through Sephiroth's emotions, though it didn't show on his face,

wiping away the uncertainty. “I haven't spoken with Reeve, yet,” he answered. “I do need to stop by Kalm but that can wait another day.”

 

A smile flitted onto Tseng's face. “Good.”

 

It wasn't much, but it felt like something, at least. They were moving forward, and that was really all that mattered.

 

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