Final Fantasy - All Series Fan Fiction ❯ Unfaithful ❯ Part II: Reactions ( Chapter 2 )

Thanks for reading! And to Chessy Kat for reviewing!

 

Part Two: Reactions

 

I opened the door slowly, ears intent for any signs of movement inside the house. It was always quiet when I returned home. I didn't know what he did while I was gone. I knew he occasionally worked for Reeve doing random missions that were important to the restoration of the world, but other than that, I didn't pry. There was no need to. Besides, if I asked, he would just give me that stare and tell me it was confidential.

 

A silent house greeted me, but that didn't mean it was empty. Vincent could move quiet as a shadow when he wanted to, and sometimes, I swore that he blended into the darkness when I wasn't looking. Whether that was his Turk training or more of the Hojo-brand alteration, I couldn't even guess.

 

I tugged off the sheath for the First Ken and hung it on the hook near the door, all the while my ears strained for any sign of Vincent. I knew I was late by an hour or so at least, but the house was lit, which meant that he was home. Vincent didn't like the dark much, which I could understand. If I had been locked in a coffin for thirty years, alone and in the dark, I wouldn't much like it myself.

 

Things existed in the dark; things we couldn't see or hear or touch, but nevertheless, we knew were there. Much like bespectacled scientists with dripping vials of some unknown substance that would make us burn or scream or just writhe in pain for hours on end. That would fill our minds with voices not our own and alter our bodies until there was little humanity left within us.

 

Yes, I well understood his fear of the dark.

 

My eyes flickered to the familiar sight of the Death Penalty holster and bronze-gilded boots near the door, further evidence that he was home. I stepped further inside, biting back a yawn and wondering if I could slip off to the shower before I ran into him.

 

My luck didn't hold.

 

As I passed by the living room, I glanced in and found him curled up in a chair near the fire, just staring into the flames. I could see the dancing flickers of light reflected in his eyes, and I knew that he was brooding on something. There were parts of our past that no matter how hard we tried we could never completely forget.

 

He looked up when I paused in the doorway, and the slight smile on his face was enough to make the guilt in me rise even higher, nearly suffocating me with the weight. I forced a smile onto my lips, moving into the living room to greet him with a kiss, hoping that the soda I guzzled was enough to wash away the taste of Reno from my mouth.

 

“Hey,” I said, entangling a gloved hand in his dark hair as our lips parted. “I'm home.” I perched on the arm of the chair next to him, hiding the wince from the sore part of my anatomy that protested the action.

 

Vincent raised a brow, not impressed by my brilliant greeting. “So I noticed. How was the delivery?” he questioned, even as he leaned forward again, pressing our lips together for a deeper, more meaningful kiss. I obliged, nibbling gently before plunging inside, absorbing the flavor that was essentially his.

 

I could never figure out how to describe him. Dark, mysterious, tinged with sadness and regret yet soothing and piquant, strange, like cinnamon or spice.

 

Kissing Vincent was nothing like kissing Reno.

 

Here, I took the lead. Her, I pressed forward, invading his mouth with mine. Here, it was my initiative that caused the flush to rise in his cheeks and moans of pleasure to catch in his throat.

 

Not that I minded. I loved being able to make this strong and silent man come apart in my arms. I loved how he arched into every touch, how our movements seemed to match in harmony, and the way he made me feel, loved and wanted and desired. And despite my activities earlier, I could feel the flush of arousal spreading through my body. The need for this man in front of me was enough to awaken my once-satiated libido.

 

I cupped his head with my hand as I directed the kiss, stroking my tongue along the inside of his mouth as my other hand lay on his thigh, purposefully rubbing him. He made a noise of acquiescence in his throat before relaxing completely into my touch, one hand reaching for my jeans. It wasn't until I felt the tugging that I stopped the kiss.

 

“Gotta take a shower then we can eat dinner,” I said when he narrowed his eyes in demand for an explanation. “Had a nasty fight with a band of monsters between here and Junon.”

 

He waved a hand of dismissal at me, scooting forward in the chair so that he could rise. “I see,” he commented, and I was surprised by the cool tone to his voice.

 

Then, it hit me. He was angry because I was late, and he thought I had forgotten.

 

I continued to pretend; however, nodding along with him as I straightened. “Yeah. Be down in twenty, okay?” I questioned.

 

He didn't answer, moving swiftly from his seat and heading into the kitchen opposite the living room. My eyes followed the movements of his ass, encased in those sinfully dark pants, clinging perfectly to him and accentuating every shift. I licked my lips before heading up the stairs, rubbing a hand through my hair and resisting the urge to sigh.

 

I showered quickly, efficiently, washing away any lingering odors or scents, frowning at the stiffness in my body that a simple cure or heal could not fix. There was another jab of guilt, but I ignored it. Things weren't as simple as one or the other, my choices not as easily defined. I knew it was impossible, but somehow, I managed it.

 

I loved them both. I needed them both: Reno with his impetuous drive and Vincent with his stoic calm, completing parts of me that had always been hollow. I couldn't just leave one or the other. It wasn't that easy, not for me and not for them either. It wasn't enough to say just one or the other. I didn't think it would ever be enough again.

 

I didn't know how it happened, and I didn't remember when. I couldn't say what point I reached when I decided it was okay to be unfaithful to him. No, not okay, but an acceptable weight to carry. Maybe not even that. Not acceptable but something I would force myself to tolerate.

 

Nevertheless, I never entered this relationship with the intention of being untrue to Vincent. It was just something that happened, and I was in over my head before I knew what I was doing. Now, I'm trapped in my own bad decisions, unable to come to any sort of conclusion except that I was walking a sharp wire, and at some point, it was going to cut through my feet and leave me bleeding.

 

I dressed efficiently before climbing back downstairs, the smell of something delicious floating my way. It surprised me at first, Vincent's ability to cook. If it was up to me, we'd be eating burnt water and take-out every day. Thanks to him, we didn't starve, and sometimes, I thought it was something for him to do, something to chase away the nightmares when he didn't want to think about the past.

 

I checked my pockets to make sure that the package I bought was still present before taking a breath and stepping into the kitchen. The table was set for two, nothing overly romantic, but it was still more than the simple quick bite I usually managed to grab before disappearing on another delivery. Vincent was setting the last plate on the table when I walked in, and he looked up to see me standing in the doorway.

 

He looked good, like always. He had pulled his hair back, dressed down in simple black pants and shirt with no concealing cloak. There was also no red headband hiding his face from the world. Not with me, not anymore. For others, I couldn't say the same, but in this house or when he was alone with me, I saw him.

 

For a moment, my heart jumped in my chest. I really did love him, and I didn't care if anyone didn't believe me.

 

Vincent was older. He was stronger and faster. He was smarter, but hell if he didn't need me. I felt like I couldn't do anything for anyone until I met him. Then, it was me who could chase away the nightmares, me who could make him feel again when Hojo had left nothing behind but a hollow, guilt-obsessed shell.

 

There were things he could make me believe, ways he could make me feel that no one could ever hope to duplicate, a rare word spoken or whisper at night when I had woken from another nightmare. I didn't know how he knew nor did I question it, but somehow, he always had the perfect words to say, even if they weren't consolation. Sometimes, when you're afraid of the dark, it was better to say it's okay to be so, rather than that there was nothing there.

 

You never know; sometimes there were. And they took many forms.

 

“Are you just going to stand there all night?” he questioned, sounding vaguely amused and pulling me from my stupor. He moved to sit in his own chair, crimson eyes regarding me curiously. I never knew until he told me, but that was his natural color. It was a trait of the Valentine family. He thought they made him more monstrous.

 

I thought they were beautiful.

 

I shook my head at him, a small smile on my face as I came into the room. I moved to his side of the table, standing over his seated form. He raised an eyebrow, but I didn't say anything before I swooped down for a kiss, slipping the box out of my pocket and setting it in front of him while I had him distracted.

 

I nipped at his lips gently with my teeth, sliding my tongue along his before reluctantly pulling back. Despite my encounter with Reno, my hunger for Vincent was of a decidedly different nature. It soothed my frazzled spirit and any lingering traces of guilt with just that one touch.

 

My stomach growled then as if to remind me I hadn't eaten anything since I left this morning. “I didn't forget,” I mumbled quietly, tapping the box on the table in front of him with one finger.

 

I went to my own seat on his right as he looked down at the box, surprise etched into his features. He really did believe I had forgotten. I watched as his eyes darted towards me once before he reached out to pull at the string binding it and lifted up the lid. I knew without looking what lay inside.

 

Onyx metal, carved by hand with a special design, it was the perfect attachment for a gun-based weapon. I had it custom made.

 

His eyes traced over the chain as he delicately pulled it from the box, the metal clinking softly and catching the light until it sparkled as it dangled from one pale finger. “It's beautiful,” Vincent commented quietly, his voice registering his awe.

 

I was pleased with myself. I knew he would like it. Not only was it aesthetic, but it was practical as well. The attachment would power up his Cerberus gun nearly twice the level it already produced. The smile that tugged on the corner of his mouth warmed my heart, and I felt a surge of love for him rising then, overshadowing any current shame.

Then, there was a flash of bright red hair, a cocksure grin, echoes of pleasured gasps in the dark, the rattle of cuffs against a bedpost. There was the scent of musk and sex, swirling around with copious amounts of alcohol. It only lasted a second, but it was enough to make me blink, swallowing thickly.

 

His eyes regarded me thoughtfully as he gently settled the chain back in its box, moving it aside so that he could eat. “Yours is there, beneath the table.” He gestured towards the empty seat beside me with his head.

 

I raised my brow before shoving aside the tablecloth and finding the small yet slightly heavy bag beneath. I pulled it out, silently weighing the sack before digging in like a child at Kamimus. Tissue paper flew to the side as my hands enclosed around it, pulling it out into the light. My heart thudded in my chest, and I swallowed thickly, instantly feeling unworthy.

 

I was such a bastard.

 

My breath constricted in my throat, but I ignored that, raising guilty mako-eyes to my lover of two years. His own gaze was calm, not even anxious, as if he already knew what my reaction would be. The box thudded to the tabletop, wrapping inside shifting to reveal a glint of metal, but I ignored it as I literally leapt out of chair, throwing myself at Vincent and wrapping my arms around his neck and kissing him.

 

No, I didn't just kiss him. I devoured him, putting all the emotion that I felt for him into the touch. I slipped my tongue inside his mouth, pulling him as close as I could and trying not to topple us over onto the floor. Suddenly, I needed him. I needed to feel him against me, to see his pale skin and taste his flesh.

 

A whimper rose in his throat from the force of my kiss, but I didn't let up. I tangled one hand into his dark hair, pulling it free from the rubber band and letting the dark strands flow around his face. I snaked the other hand around his waist, jerking his hips towards mine so that he could feel the half-hard arousal that was already building.

 

I was so hungry for him, like a man starved for affection. It was two different types of desire, a different type of appetite that my older lover sated. By Kami, I needed them both. Vincent's hand grasped onto my shoulder, squeezing tightly as he surrendered to the kiss.

 

I could already feel his acquiescence. He wanted and needed it, too.

 

His chair scooted backwards across the wooden floor, making a god awful screeching sound that I suffered and ignored. I pulled him up out of it and jerked him against my body, never breaking the kiss despite his greater height over me. I stumbled across the floor, finally managing to shove him against a wall where I broke away from his mouth, allowing Vincent to gasp for air before I trailed my lips down his jaw and heading straight for his throat.

 

I ignored the small scars, the proof of Hojo's torture. He didn't need to be reminded; I didn't need to be reminded. I laved my tongue over his flesh, following the motion with a scrape of teeth and smiled when I felt his resulting groan rumble in his throat. His body moved against mine, undulating and restless, before his groin brushed over mine, hard flesh meeting hard flesh between the layers of fabric.

 

“Want you,” I gasped, nosing into his scent, smelling the strange yet erotic musk of his body and the shampoo of his hair. I moaned against him, one hand busily working at the twin buckles that held up his pants, the other still tangled in his hair. Finally, the buckles parted, and I could slip my hand down the front of his pants, wrapping my fingers around his heated cock, stroking the flesh.

 

He groaned, bucking up into the touch as his hand slid around my body, untucking my shirt. He delved beneath to palm the flesh of my back, pushing me closer, if that was at all possible. His other hand, free of the claw since he had taken to keeping it off when he was home with me, settled on my hip.

 

I abandoned my plundering of his throat, removing my hands from his hair to work quickly at his shirt, tearing off a few buttons in my haste. Pale skin was revealed, dotted and criss-crossed with many scars. Some were from battle, some from a time before I knew him, and others, I recognized as the work of a mad scientist with a god complex.

 

A fresh stab of guilt flashed through me. Reno was scarred, too. Not in so many ways, but from a different kind of path. From a life spent trying to survive in the Midgar slums, trying to survive as a member of the Turks when you didn't have the skills of a SOLDIER.

 

I blinked, swallowing down the recollection before I dove in, latching onto a pinkish nipple with my tongue. A strangled sound of pleasure escaped from his throat as his flesh pebbled beneath my mouth, but I didn't stop. I mercilessly laved my tongue over his nipple, leaving it a glistening, slightly reddened nub before I moved over to the other. He tasted so damn good, something I could never give up. He was addicting in every way, just as much as Reno, and I devoured his scent and his flavor, absorbing every pleasured noise that escaped from his normally passive self.

 

Only I could make him gasp like that. Only I could make him come alive in my arms, more than the blank and solemn creature that he was around the others.

 

“C… Cloud,” he moaned, as his head fell back against the wall, able to do little more than curl his fingers against me as I ruthlessly stroked and nibbled at the same time.

 

I could feel his heartbeat against my lips, fast and excited, his chest heaving with every shuddery breath, and I slid my hand over his cock again, for the moment ignoring his plea. Precum leaked from the tip, and I used that to slicken the way, stroking him diligently before gliding my fingers over his balls. I cupped the round flesh in my hands and rolled them as he bucked into the touch, wanting and needing far more than I was giving him.

 

“D… dinner's getting cold,” he managed to gasp out as I pushed his shirt off of his shoulders.

 

“Dinner can wait,” I mumbled, dragging my lips up until I reached his mouth, kissing him a bit more softly than the desperate pace I had already been setting. I had to remind myself that Vincent was a different sort. With him, I could be slow, tender. He needed careful embraces and loving touches, and in many ways, I did, too. The soft and affectionate reminded me that Hojo hadn't completely ripped away all of what made me human. It reminded both of us that there was still something left worth saving.

 

His weight shifted, and I managed to slip a digit beneath his balls, rubbing the pad of my finger over his entrance. He moaned, legs spreading to accommodate the movement. I wanted him so badly, but I forced myself to slow down, to take it easy. This wasn't about domination; this wasn't about overwhelming. It was about life.

 

“I want you,” I repeated, as if my hand down his pants wasn't already a clear sign. I looked up, gazing into lust-fogged irises that were narrow slits through his hooded eyes.

 

“You don't have to ask,” he breathed, and I was fascinated by the slight reddening of his lips, swollen from our kisses. I wanted to taste them, taste him again, so I pressed forward, entangling our tongues together.

 

Trust was such a delicate thing, and he had given me his. I allowed myself to plunder his mouth for a few moments more before reluctantly pulling away, grabbing his hand and leading him towards the stairs and ultimately our bedroom. While I was up for kinky sex on the kitchen floor with who knows what for lubrication, I wanted to be different with Vincent. Perhaps I was trying to reaffirm to myself that what I felt for him was still true. That he owned a different part of my heart than Reno.

 

I tried to banish all thoughts of the redheaded Turk out of my mind as I pulled Vincent inside the bedroom, pushing the door shut behind me. But just as I couldn't completely forget my ex-Turk lover while shoved against a random building in Junon, I couldn't entirely disregard thoughts of Reno either. They were intertwined within my mind, so deeply ingrained that I couldn't distinguish where one part of me began and the other ended.

 

I never thought that one day I would find myself trapped between two sides of myself with one man on one hand and another on the other. I never considered myself the type to be unfaithful. Still, there was just something in them that I needed, that I couldn't give up. It wasn't as simple as choosing. It wasn't as simple as telling the other no. Not for me. For my life, nothing could ever be uncomplicated. That was my lot. And I had learned to accept it.

 

Clothes dropped to the floor quickly, pooling around our feet as we slowly backed towards the bed, dark garments from the both of us; we were so much alike in that way. Black to hide our sins, to cover up our regrets and our failures in saving the ones we cared about before.

 

Vincent toppled to the bed first, and I quickly covered him with my body, dotting kisses and licks along his flat stomach, across pale flesh as I settled between his parted legs. His hands tangled in my hair as he moved beneath me, and I felt a surge of affection rise up inside on the tailwinds of a hot spike of lust. It curled and enraptured me, until I was nibbling on his flesh, running my hands down the side of his upper body. I traced nonsense symbols in his skin, feeling him shiver beneath my touch with wordless cries, begging me to continue.

 

I nuzzled into dark curls, his cock brushing across my cheek and leaving a small trail of precum behind before I finally started paying attention to it. I wrapped my lips around the spongy head, dipping my tongue into the slit as my hands slid down. My thumbs brushed across the hollow of his hips before settling around the curve of his ass, and I kneaded the soft flesh as his legs fell open further.

 

Every noise he made, every whimper I drew from his mouth, caused me to harden painfully. Only me, he was only this way with me, and the thought was enough to make me take him deeper. To hear those sounds from his throat, to hear him whisper my name as his fingers curled around my blond spikes made my heart squeeze.

 

I lightly scraped my teeth over Vincent's cock, inhaling deeply his own unique musk. It was so different from Reno's, far darker and mysterious, haunted. It was much like my own I imagined as I curled my tongue over his length and along the sensitive underside, pulling him deeper into my throat and holding down his hips when he arched into my mouth.

 

Everyone thought Vincent was cold, that he was impassive and couldn't show anything beyond that blank expression. They thought he didn't care, that he was too hung up on Lucrecia and his past to ever do anything more than skulk in the shadows. None of them could see him come alive in my hands, so responsive and just plain alive. They didn't know that he actually had a sense of humor buried beneath the crimson fabric or that he could cook better than most women.

 

They didn't know. They could never understand.

 

With a final swipe over the head of his cock, I slowly crawled back up his body, leaving little nips and licks along the way, sensitizing his skin until he was a moving, undulating mass of pleasure beneath me. His hands slid along my back, fingers pressing into my skin as I nibbled on a nipple before finding his lips again. I groped blindly in the covers, dipping beneath the pillow for the small tube of lube I usually kept shoved under there. My fingers wrapped around the bottle at the same time that he bucked under me, causing our groins to rub together and creating a delicious hum of friction that made me purr deep in my throat.

 

“You're taking too long,” he murmured against my lips.

 

I grinned faintly, my gaze shifting to look up into his eyes, again entranced by how very beautiful he was with pale skin, ebony hair, crimson eyes, and almost feminine and very delicate features. They belied his true ferocity in battle. I had heard often enough that I could be mistaken for a woman, but Vincent's beauty far surpassed mine. And now, with desire and love both swirling in his gaze, I saw that even more.

 

He trusted me not to leave him. He trusted me to love him. He trusted me for a lot of things.

 

I didn't want to think about how I was betraying him, so I closed my eyes and leaned down to kiss him again. For all my heroism, I was really a coward on the inside, especially when it came to my own emotions.

 

I flipped open the cap of the lube with my thumb, easily manipulating the small tube so that I could squeeze out some of the oil onto my fingers. The tube was tossed to the bed beside us as I gently reached down his body, sliding towards his hidden entrance. He took the initiative then, rubbing his hands down my chest, nimble fingers manipulating my sensitive nipples.

 

I moaned into the kiss, breaking away from his lips to nibble on his jaw line again, dipping my tongue into the hollow just behind his ear, where I knew he was particularly sensitive. I greedily devoured his skin, giving up a mark that I knew would be visible for days to come. It was proof that he was mine.

 

My finger rubbed across his entrance, tracing circles around the rim before slowly pressing inside. He moaned, arching up into the touch as his legs slid around my body, his skin rubbing along mine. Vincent eagerly responded as I slip another finger inside, scissoring my fingers before I curl them, seeking that one special spot to make him shiver and moan my name.

 

“Cloud…” True to form, a plea that I could not ignore. I brushed my fingers over his prostate again, admiring the blush that spread across his fair skin and the tiny lines of sweat that were beginning to form. He was disheveled, moaning and panting in my arms, coming undone under my touch. His hand clutched at the covers as if he needed something to cling to while the other danced fingers across my skin, sending little ripples of pleasure through my body. With one last sweeping of my fingers, I withdrew them, despite his protests.

 

I kissed him again, unable to resist the taste of his mouth or his tongue sliding along mine. Suddenly, I sat back on my heels and reached for the bottle of lube one last time. I quickly slicked the unscented oil over my shaft before tossing it to the side. I ran my hands along the outside of his legs, remarking on the smoothness of his skin, despite the scars.

 

“You're beautiful,” I murmured as I raised my gaze, looking directly into hiscrimson eyes. My hands curled around the curve of his hip, along his pale ass as I gently pulled him closer to me.

 

“You say that enough, and I might start to believe it,” he mumbled in return before arching his hips into my hands. “Cloud, I need you.”

 

My heart swelled again, and I had to look away, to find some grounding in reality. I nodded, more to myself than him before I positioned myself at his puckered entrance, leaning down to balance my weight on one arm as I gently kissed him, far more softly than I had all night.

 

“I need you, too,” I murmured against his lips before I slowly began to press inside, giving his body time to adjust. A low growl rumbled in my throat as my aching shaft was encased in his warm heat, his muscles clenching and unclenching around me as he fought to accommodate my girth.

 

He moaned as he wrapped his legs around my waist, encouraging me to go deeper and to quit stalling. I obliged, rocking my hips forward until I was completely inside of him, my cock pulsing with blood.

 

“Tight,” I whispered as I nuzzled into the crook of his neck, small pants of pleasure escaping from my mouth.

 

He murmured something I didn't quite catch in response, bucking up his hips impatiently. His fingers curled around my upper arm as he gasped, body practically trembling beneath me. I began a slow and steady rhythm, pulling out nearly all the way before sliding back in, angling my hips to stroke his prostate with every motion.

 

It was a far cry from the frenzied, plain fucking that was my liaison with Reno earlier in the afternoon. This was slow, sensual, making love. It might not have had the same high level of furious passion, but it was just what I needed, what we both needed. I didn't expect anything more from him. I didn't want him to be like what I had with Reno. Vincent was my calm and my peace. My refuge for all the swirling, confusing things I could never quite face.

 

Our breaths turned ragged and harsh as I unconsciously picked up the pace, urging us both towards orgasm with steady thrusts. I slipped one hand between our bodies, wrapping my fingers around his cock and stroking him gently, rubbing a thumb over the sensitive head. He gasped and writhed, and I soaked up every moan, each sound going straight to my cock and sending warm tingles of pleasure through my body.

 

It was so sweet, so good, emotions intermingling with the physical sensations as his body clamped around my shaft. I pressed deeper inside of him, staking my claim as sure as Reno had placed his on me. Vincent's fingers curled in my hair as he dragged my lips up towards him. I obliged.

 

We fit so well together, every move like we were meant to be.

 

He danced and rolled beneath me, and I met each movement with maddening thrusts and steady strokes until he was literally shaking with an oncoming orgasm. Yet, as always, he held back until the last possible moment, riding the pleasure until I could wring no more out of him.

 

His legs tightened around my waist as he gasped into the kiss, arching his back when his entire body went taut. Orgasm washed over him, and he spurted into my hand, warm cum covering my fingers. The rippling of his inner muscles over me was all that I needed to send me over the edge. Wordless cries of ecstasy escaped my mouth as I came, my entire body seizing up before I collapsed tiredly on top of him, managing to roll over enough not to crush him.

 

We laid there, panting and sweating. He still had one hand tangled in my hair, and I had one hand wrapped around his waist. He turned over on his side, guiding our heads together to share a sweet kiss, attempting to allow our bodies to return to a peaceful state as our hearts thudding wildly in our chests.

 

I tried to stop comparing the two, but it seemed it was my fortune for the day to torture myself with my own actions. With Reno, now would be the time he lit up a smoke, while I exhaustedly fell asleep. Then, I would be shaken awake a few hours later, so I could hit the road and get home. Cuddling was something rare and unusual given the very nature and circumstances of our relationship.

 

That intimacy, however, was something I did share with Vincent, and I basked in it, pulling him close and wrapping my arms around him as the afterglow of sex faded to a comfortable and companionable peace. We were quiet for a few moments, and I already felt myself drifting off to sleep when he spoke.

 

“Cloud?” His voice was somewhat hesitant but not unsure. I wasn't quite certain what to make of it.

 

I replied sleepily, “Hmm?”

 

He paused, seemingly searching for the right words. I could almost hear him going over his thoughts in his head. He was always like that, refusing to speak unnecessarily. He rarely spoke as it was.

 

He shifted against me, and I could feel the cool puffs of air from his breathing against my collarbone, his hair tickling the bottom of my chin.

 

“What kind of monsters gave you trouble?” he questioned.

 

I furrowed my brow, wondering what in the hell he was talking about. When had I said anything about monsters?

 

“Trouble?” I repeated, a more than sated body and the heat from his nearness causing my coherency to fade with every passing second. I was tired, and it was late.

 

He went quiet, pulling closer. “Nothing, nevermind.”

 

“Mmm,” I murmured in response, already falling back into the lull of sleep.

 

The lights were still on; the sheets were a mess, but I had slept in worse conditions during that whole search for Sephiroth. He stirred, but I only tightened my grip.

 

“We can heat it up later,” I murmured in response, thinking he wanted to get up and return to our uneaten dinner.

 

Vincent sighed. “I'm just going to turn off the lights.”

 

I relented and let him free. By the time he returned, I had already fallen asleep.

 

- - - -

 

A/N: I used to write Vincent with a little different characterization, but after playing Dirge of Cerberus, I'm oscillating on how he should be portrayed. If you see bouts of out of characterness… well, just attribute it to that. DoC threw me off my game, and now, I'm trying to pick up the pieces. *Sigh*

 

One more part! Please leave a review. I'll be a happy authoress!