Psychosis & Inspiration

Beware the rocker!

2009-11-11T20:36:23Z

I had some total stranger guy coming into my office today. Introduces himself as a collegue, looking for the woman I'll be working with once she comes back from her vacation. So obviously, she is not there and will not appear any time soon, on the other hand, I'm working. Still, he stays and starts chatting.

About my hair.

You see, said hair is now dyed black and strong vibrant red, chin length on one side, cropped short on the other. I realise it is not common sight in a municipality office where people below 40 don't exist and if they do they make sure they look 50. So I was trying to be nice which resulted in the following conversation:

Guy: So, that is like... a symbol of some special group style or...?
Me: Umm, yeah, not like I expect you to have heard about it. It's called visual kei.
Guy: Called what?
Me: Visual kei. But that's beside the point. The point is, I'm not wearing my hair like this because I want to show my support for japanese rock. I just think it looks awesome.
Guy: ... You're a rocker? OWW.

Do I love having intelligent people around me. /sarcasm

We are... erm... sorry. Yes. Sorry...

2009-11-02T11:30:43Z

Title: The Adventures of Genny Longstockings
Fandom: FFVII
Authors: sphinxofthenile and _ice_lady_
Pairing: Lazard/umm... Genny
Rating: NC17 doesn't even cover it
Warning: Um. Anyhow... how about... well, f*ck it, just... skip this fic, ok? For your own sanity.
Summary: Porn?
Word count: 3348
A/N: Just for the record, I only made sure that the bunny gets enough carrot all the time and helped out here and there. All praise goes to the ~~fantastically depraved~~ absolutely amazing _ice_lady_

---

"I presume you well know why I asked you here," Lazard said sternly, ordering his papers into a neat stack and casting a glance at his visitor from above the rim of his glasses.

"Yes, headmaster," the lovely voice chimed without any trace of remorse.

His eyes narrowed in displeasure. The Shinra Girls High was the most respectable institution amongst the elite of Midgar and its surrounding area, and he wasn't about to let this reputation be tarnished. Honor, descipline and servitude were the holy trinity of the school, preparing the girls for their futures be it excelling in state service or being an exceptional wife of high standing. After all, what would become of these spoilt, rich, decadent little brats without someone putting them into their place?

The fact that he enjoyed it maybe just a bit too much was just an added perk of getting the job.

"So you say," he hummed, letting his gaze slide down from the pretty face, lingering for a split second on the pale skin visible where the ends of the custom white shirt were inappropriately tied together up front, down the suggestively hiked skirt to the graceful long legs accentuated by the knee-high socks, gently rocking as dainty feet dangled in a slow, lazy rythm. "No wonder Mrs. Scarlet complained," he added dryly. "House rule #5, appropriate dress code..."

"But I'm wearing the uniform!"

"Which is just an end to a means, namely, ensuring that out students don't look inappropriate in public, but dress according to what their class demands of them. But," Lazard pushed the glasses higher on his nose, "I'll deal with that later. I have a much more troublesome issue at hand here."

The dangling suddenly stopped. The young body went tense, highlighting the lean thighs and the boyish, flat chest. She was probably one of the later maturing ones, Lazard thought fleetingly, the sharp, alert gaze in blue eyes confirming his suspicions of the girl having something to hide.

"Mrs. Scarlet in her complaint also mentions having seen you in the grotto with the gardener in a rather..." the headmaster cleared his throat slightly, tearing his gaze away from those long legs, "inappropriate setting."

Was it just a trick of his imagination, or did she seem relieved?

"I can assure you that no..." she started with a haughty toss of her head, and goddess gracious, was that sweet, exposing her long graceful neck and sending her short pigtails bouncing. His mother called them angel wings, he recalled.

"Are you aware that this could mean I have to send you home?" he cut the protest short, secretly revelling in the panic that started rising in those pretty baby blues. "I'm sure your parents would be devastated."

"The wench is just jealous because no sane man would ever want to help her to cheat on her old fat sugar daddy of a husband!" she spat with sudden spite, jumping to her feet.

Explosive little one. How exciting.

"That doesn't change the fact that she saw you giving a blowjob to Mr. Hewley."

"It's a lie!" she declared squarely, but instead of resentfulness at the accusation, her eyes held defiance.

"Look, Genny. It's her word against yours," he interrupted with a sigh, using his best well-meaning voice.

"You can't expel me!" she nearly screamed, looking much more frightened and desperate than he expected her to be.

"Of course I can," he replied dryly, pleasant shivers crawling under his skin. "However..." he let it linger in the air, and nearly smiled as the bait was taken just as he hoped it would be.

"Yes?" she asked, trying to hide the hope in her tone, but to a trained eye as his it was all too evident. The skirt rocked as she shifted, and sweet Shiva, she was really asking for it, wasn't she?

He rose from his chair and locked the door before taking his seat again. "As it is a delicate matter, I would like this to remain between us, Genny. I would very much like to help you, but I must think about my reputation," his grey eyes settled on her again, face all smooth, porcelain beauty framed with red hair and clear eyes now wider than usual.

After some hesitation, she nodded, forcing herself to speak. "What is it you require of me?"

"Oh, nothing much," he waved a hand dismissively. "Perhaps, if you could show me the action in question, so I could determine myself if it is ground enough for your expulsion," he held a meaningful pause. "Or, you can go back to your room and start packing."

It was way too satisfying, to watch the troubled emotions pass through her face, hope, fear, disgust, conscience battling with cynism and temptation. It made his pants so much tighter, the resigned sigh music to his ears when it finally sounded.

"I guess I can do that," she said cautiously, those pretty eyes abashed and calculating. It was a little unusual, this array of reactions, but he pushed the disturbing feeling into the back of his mind, as he spread his legs a bit to make room for her, way past the point of really caring.

"Well then..." he urged and she finally moved forward, kneeling between his spread thighs, looking up at him with a beseeching, unsure gaze. Lazard's cock twitched in his pants from the mere sight. "Go on, don't be shy..." he murmured encouragingly, holding his breath as those delicate fingers slowly reached for his zipper.

The air of the room was cool enough on his heated skin to make him shiver briefly, but then he felt the first tentative touches of her soft and slick tongue and the cold dissipated in a wave of blazing anticipation. He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to take his mind somewhere else, somewhere where these actions weren't frowned upon, where it could feel good simply for feeling good. But it was too much to bear, having the imagination Lazard sometimes suffered of, because seeing that skirt pulled up with knees spread... and if only...

He had to open his eyes with a hiss, and she stopped, pulling away, blush creeping on those usually pale cheeks, and mixed with the swollen lips still wet from saliva, Lazard knew his cock did not jerk because she stopped, but because he wanted more.

Her eyes slid down and Lazard felt a pang of guilt. Instantly, he extended his arm, index finger sliding under that delicate, almost trembling chin. "Oh, Genny..."

The chin finally trembled and she sniffled, looking up so defiantly, a little spark that she obviously was. "Please," she urged, almost desperate. "Please, don't send me away, I'll do anything!" It was such a mixture of despair and cuteness that it almost made Lazard laugh. "I know I'm young, but..." She instantly froze as Lazard pulled her upright and slid his palms onto her thighs, just under the skirt.

He almost shuddered at the feel of those lithe muscles so obvious under the thick ribbed cotton, and he definitely did shudder once he slid his palms up, under the soft silky lining that felt nothing compared to the smooth silkiness of the skin. She didn't even try to pull away.

It was all in the way she let herself be lead along, eyelashes sweeping low and white teeth sinking into the plush red of her lower lip, that caused such raging desire wash through him and he leant forward to steal a taste of the graceful swan neck, pulling a small, surprised gasp from that throat.

Her hands flew to his shoulders, grip tightening as he leaned in for another, open-mouthed kiss, lingering over the pulse that was racing so bewitchingly under his lips. She moaned faintly, shifting restlessly until she brushed a bare thigh against his erection and she immediately froze.

Lazard looked at her with warm eyes, hoping she trusted him enough, but even as she leaned her cheek into his palm, it was obvious something was bothering her.

"What is it, beautiful?" Lazard whispered soothingly, pulling her close as she gripped his shoulders, looking completely torn.

"I can't," she sobbed, face disappearing in the crook of Lazard's collar and it broke Lazard's heart, knowing he wasn't as cruel, but he couldn't stop now. These little vixens, they had to be put to their places, or else this school would fall into ruins within a few generations.

"You know the rules," Lazard whispered warmly, keeping a smile to his face as she looked at him with those huge, huge eyes full of tears. "I can't put my reputation on the..."

"You don't understand!" she fought her way into his heart. "My parents, they'd kill me if they knew."

"If they knew what, Genny?" Lazard was adamant and he was close to chuckling as deep crimson washed over her cheeks once more.

"They're very conservative," she said under her breath, eyes low. "There are things..."

"Yes?" Lazard urged.

"They'd..." she tried, still crimson red. "They'd disown me if they knew..."

Slowly, it started dawning on Lazard, and he was fighting not to chuckle. Such innocence, such... lack of experience. Such power... "If they knew what, Gen?"

"I can't..." she whispered, swallowing hard. "Please, headmaster, you can't..."

"Genny," Lazard warned her, patting one of his thighs as a signal for her to sit there and, being an obedient little girl that she was, she did it without giving it a second thought. "I think we have a problem here," he continued, trying hard to keep his voice still and yet warm. She was adorable, true, extremely beautiful and everything Lazard's dreams were made of, but this behaviour was starting to annoy him. He was the headmaster and, in the boundaries of this school, his word was the law. "And the problem is your lack of discipline, your lack of respect towards those above you, your lack of..."

"I want to do it, sir," she said, and Lazard might have been angry with the interruption, but not when the pieces were falling in the places he wanted them to. That and the fact that she squirmed in his lap, her delicate fingers slipping through his still undid zipper without him even prompting her to. "I want to show you I'm worthy of Shinra High, worthy if you..."

"Genny," Lazard warned, sliding one of his hands down her arm, until his fingers reached hers, squeezing them, pointing she should use more power if she wanted her actions to have any effect. He even groaned; the girl surely knew what she was doing, and if the rumours were correct... "Why can't you...?" he whispered with his lids half shut, his fingers sliding between her thighs, and she instantly jumped up. "Genny," he had to scorn once more.

She blushed, quickly jumping up to her feet. "Let me do it, sir, you're the one giving orders, aren't you?" she said and Lazard swore, his grin was going to split his face in two, but that didn't happen once she slid her simple white panties with little black wings down her legs.

"You're a good girl, Genny," Lazard said and she glowed. "Quick learner." She looked even redder than before, beaming. "You'll be a real pride of this school, I'm certain."

She even produced a small bow, her little curled pigtails dancing in the air. "Anything else you want me to do, sir?" The tone was so sultry Lazard thought it would finish him off if she only dared say another word. Instead, he collected himself and stood up, thankful that only his zipper was open, so there was no need to adjust his pants not to fall off.

Graced with such beauty, he refused to seem anything less but her perfect master. "Turn around," he whispered, pulling her by the wrists towards the desk. She took the message instantly and leaned over, sliding her palms all the way across the wooden surface.

Proud, far too proud of making such a rebel so obedient, Lazard quickly stepped behind her, pressing his groin into her behind, squeezing those tight ass cheeks as though she belonged to him. And that was truer than she'd ever understand, because everything in this place, everything and everyone belonged to him, and him alone.

She even dared a gasp as he kneaded those muscles, fingers here and there daring to wander to the cleft, pulling innocent little gasps of surprise and pleasure from her. But she still didn't dare move.

"You're mine," he said, tugged her thighs apart with his knee, fingers sliding down the rough fabric of the kilt. "Mine alone," he continued, pinning her hard between his body and desk. She just managed to gasp and moan and produce sweet little nothings that only confirmed Lazard's words. "Say it," he ordered, nails digging deep into that soft, soft skin, making her hiss. "Say it."

"Yours," she cried out, voice breaking the moment he thrust his hips so she could feel how hard she was making him, the little whore. "Yours," she repeated as Lazard smacked her thigh, thrusting once more.

"And you want me, don't you?" Lazard demanded, smacking her again, loving the sounds of those yelps, unrestrained and perfectly pitched, aligned with his movements. "You want me to fuck you so hard you'll never even think about another man."

"No, never!" she answered as obediently as Lazard could only want her to.

"There'll be nobody but me," Lazard continued, slapping her once more. "Nobody. Do I make myself clear?"

"I promise," she gasped, yelping once more after another blow.

"Your first and only one, am I not?" Lazard added with a chuckle, but then she tensed. "Oh, I forget," he whispered, stepping away. "Your family wants you to stay pure, don't they? They have no idea what a dirty little slut you are."

Looking somewhat ashamed, she glanced behind her shoulder at him, her spine curling as she pressed her forehead into the wood, too afraid to move.

"I know all about your kind," Lazard continued, opening one of his desk drawers, overstuffed as always. He dug a bit through it, until he found what he needed. "I know more than you'd want me to, you little whore." He hit the table with the base of the plastic bottle hard, and she glanced towards it, looking somewhat frightened all of a sudden. "And since you refuse to give me what I wanted from the start," he paused, resuming his place in the large overstuffed leather chair that rightfully showed his place in the hierarchy of this school - it belong to him, all of it. "The least you can do is show me how much you want me, little girl."

"But I..." she protested, but one eyebrow raise from Lazard made her stop and slide her hand towards the bottle. "I said I'd do anything," she quickly added as her fingers curled around the bottle and, Lazard swore, there was a wink in those eyes, something daring and evil lurking there under this surface of innocence.

For such a young and supposedly innocent little girl, she definitely knew how to put on a show. The way she opened the bottle and squeezed the fluid onto the table surface made Lazard want to stop this game and punish her, punish her properly, but when she started playing with the little pool, drawing idle circles with the tips of her fingers before sliding her arm back and under her skirt, Lazard stopped caring about preserving the wood. At least that wood.

She was quite a tease, muscles clenching as her finger penetrated her sphincter and she started playing, the movements quite familiar to Lazard and yet equally distracting. He didn't even realize the moment when he'd decided to circle his own cock and play with it in the rhythm of her working her ass, preparing just for him. He couldn't see anything, god damn it, but he could feel the sex burning the air.

She pulled her finger out eventually, face flushed and pigtails ruined from sliding over the table surface, but she obviously didn't matter. She even had the audacity to smile as she licked her lips, looking Lazard straight in the eye, as though penetrating his soul. Then she played with that little pool once more, making sure to coat two fingers now, and then returning them back in. Only this time, she used the other hand to pull the kilt up, and Lazard knew loosening his tie was a matter of life and death.

Even his hand worked faster, but then again she seemed to be the one determining the rhythm.

"Tell me what you want me to do," she purred, fucking herself and sighing with every movement. High heels might not be allowed in the school premises, but seeing her pull on the tips of her fingers, those legs gaining definition flats lacked giving them, Lazard thought about changing that policy. She needed stilettos and stockings, and maybe even corsets before the puberty took care of her god given curves. Just the idea of dressing her up as his own little toy made Lazard have to stop jerking off, because he was going to come and then the game would be over.

"Stop," he ordered then, and she obeyed, albeit with a little impatient frown. "You don't get to have all the fun for yourself," he added and the corners of his lips curved. "Come here," he ordered and she obeyed like a puppy, smart enough not to forget grabbing the bottle as well.

"How do you want me?" she asked and Lazard felt like melting. Such corruption...

"I want you to ride me," Lazard whispered, taking hold of those hips and pulling them close. He didn't care about staining his pants anymore. It was too late for that, and his coat offered enough of a cover. "I want to see you ripped apart, screamind and begging for mercy." She didn't even need much more and she quickly handed him the bottle, keeping her barely coverd ass right in his line of sight as he worked himself for her.

He didn't let her prepare as he pulled her down, but the moment she took the game, his cock was already in her arms as she seated herself on its tip, deep throaty growl cutting the air once the head entered, turning into a loud moan once she pulled him in whole.

Far from being the innocent one she claimed to be, she instantly pulled her legs up onto the chair, knees spread wide and high as she ordered the rhythm and, as much as Lazard wanted to control those hips, she wouldn't let him to, the insatiable little beast that she was.

She was sending him spiralling down that one way street to orgasm faster than anything he could have imagined, so by the time he grabbed her by the hips hard, eyes having such a hard time peeling off those high school thigh highs that were killing him since he could remember seeing them for the first time.

"You're too good," he whispered, nipping her shoulder. "One more minute, and I'd..."

"Then better start working those hands, you selfish bastard," Lazard heard in a tone much deeper than he'd expected, and he had to laugh.

"Nice way to break the role, Genesis," Lazard chided, smacking that butt playfully, but sliding his hand around Genesis and under the skirt, tugging his erection a few times.

"When you were having all the fun, sir," Genesis teased, purring, resuming the rhythm now Lazard's hand was pushing. "Oh, yes, sir, oh yes, sir, please, do it harder, harder!" she, Lazard had to remind himself, continued in that typical breathy tone of hers, no defiance in it, just obedience. Except, it was leaning to the absurd this time and, Lazard knew, Genesis was mocking him, but if nothing, it worked well in postponing his orgasm, when everything else was obviously accelerating it.

Though, that broken little pitched sound Genesis made right before he ejaculated all over Lazard's hand ensured not even Sephiroth's threats would stop him from coming. He groaned, trying to hold onto Genesis' still far too well working hips as though for dear life, as he emptied himself, and then he barely managed to keep Genesis from sliding off his lap, the two of them far too limp for anything constructive.

Then Genesis groaned, like a stretching cat. "There's a reason why I avoid yoga," he said lazily as his feet finally managed to set loose enough to slide down the chair.

Lazard chuckled. "Stilettos and stockings next time," he whispered and squeezed his fingers into Genesis' hips when the other wanted to pull away. It was obvious Genesis wanted to protest, but then it was also obvious he felt that final jerk of Lazard's cock before the remains of erection died off completely, and who was Genesis to deny his superior's kinks? "And corsets."

"Sure," Genesis offered with a snort, turning even more lifeless in Lazard's arms. He sure as hell didn't bother making it easy for Lazard, but that wasn't anything new. "On Angeal."

"That was a kink I didn't know I had," Lazard whispred before he realized the meaning of his words.

Long silence ensued.

Fellow geeks out there...

2009-10-27T22:54:07Z

So, I changed my journal layout (again), all that black just started getting too depressing. And I am pretty happy with the new one, except that it uses Arial font and for some reason, my whole Livejournal (e.g. parts that don't strictly belong to my journal like the home area and such) is appearing in Arial. Is that normal? This is basically my first time using a pre-coded layout, and considering I thoroughly tweaked it, I could've done something bad.

Help?

Quickie

2009-10-22T10:18:49Z

Uni is crap, administration sucks, people are stupid. Ranted to Ice, feeling better.

I am constantly busy as hell and I don't even know why. Where is all that time going, dammit?

Off to the countryside for a few days (yay for visiting cemeteries! /sarcasm) won't be around til next week. Have a nice weekend, all of you.

Which is fall break. It better be uneventful. And looooong. -_-

Those Without Sin: Chapter 04 - Father and Mother

2009-10-18T14:06:02Z

Title: Those Without Sin
Fandom: FFVII AU
Authors: _ice_lady_ and sphinxofthenile
Beta: gothicdragon752
Dramatis personae: Sephiroth, Angeal, Genesis and a few cameos
Rating: PG13 for now, NC17 altogether
Warning: AU, religious and Biblical themes, blasphemy, mentions of child abuse, homosexuality, priests, prostitution, violence. And priests. Smut. And priests.
Summary: So when they continued asking Him, He lifted up Himself, and said unto them, He that is without sin among you, let him first cast a stone at her. And again He stooped down, and wrote on the ground. (John 8:7-8 KJV)
Word count: 5411
A/N: Once again, a pretty late update, but at least another long one. :)

04. Father and Mother

---

The next morning, they're fighting again. Sephiroth tries not to listen, but Genesis rarely spares his breath when he's in this mood, so it seems. Angeal is much more constrained, so the other part of the argument is missing, but Sephiroth can't exactly miss drawing his own conclusions.

It's about the past again. Last night seemed to be so well spent, with Angeal making more soup and them talking until the early hours of the morning. Sephiroth knew he'd regret it eventually, but after hearing Genesis' hurt tone pass through the walls, he feels many a thing, but going back to sleep isn't one of them.

By the time Genesis yells "You ruined my life!" Sephiroth decides it's time to get up and play the judge. Or at least a friend, if either of them need it. Though, as he gets dressed and enters the living room, all he finds is Genesis sitting at his unmade bed, fidgeting with his fingers nervously.

"He's in his room," he whispers, voice raspy from all that yelling, and Sephiroth forces the warmest smile he can muster.

"I figured as much," he says and Genesis snorts, those eyes moving from hurt to playful enough, more like daring.

"I'm not known for keeping quiet," he says with enough teasing to pull goosebumps over Sephiroth's skin, and instantly regret passes over the redhead's face. "Maybe I should leave," he says, his fingers stop fidgeting, but he turns the unease to his legs, jumps up from the bed, wants to walk, do something, like a trapped cat. He freezes as Sephiroth takes hold of his hand, looks at the man and then jumps back.

"And maybe you should stop blaming others for the mistakes you made in your life," Sephiroth finds himself snapping, the words too much even for his preaching taste. "Maybe you should let others help you," he tries to repair the crack, but it's obviously too late.

"You don't know anything about me, so stop pretending you do and you have the right to tell me how to live my life!" Genesis is close to screaming again.

"So, why not tell me?" Sephiroth shoots back, realizes his mistake the moment the words leave his mouth and Genesis' eyes flare with rage, but God above, he wants to understand.

"You want to know?" Genesis seethes with enough malice to drown in, his voice rising with each word. "I can tell you. I can tell you more than you ever wanted to hear, and it would do nothing, because you'll never know how it feels to stand in front of a bakery in the pouring rain and stare at the bread you can't have. To listen to your drunken neighbour beat his screaming wife, to shiver all night, unable to sleep because you no longer have the luxury of heating, to fuck someone because there is a knife at your throat..." his voice suddenly breaks, eyes wide, shocked at his own revelations, but Sephiroth's are wide too, terror, disbelief all too evident.

"Genesis..." he whispers, visibly hurt and hurting for him.

The other just shakes his head, rage gone, replaced by the usual controlled facade, but the hate is still there, underneath all that pain. There is something in the way he haughtily lifts his chin that is suddenly killing Sephiroth inside.

"If this is how God loves me, I would rather if he stopped."

"Don't say that." The words are simple, and they carry no emotion because Sephiroth doesn't know what to pour into them. Disgust? Pain? Hope? Pity? "He works..."

Genesis rolls his eyes, the chin close to trembling, but he's too proud for that. "At least try and say it like you mean it. You owe yourself as much."

"And maybe that's just it?" Sephiroth tries, just a bit hope in his voice, but he's not expecting much anyway. "Maybe you're here for a reason. Angeal tells me he ran into you by sheer accident. Maybe, just maybe..." One dry laugh from Genesis and Sephiroth doesn't even bother. He sighs instead. "Can I at least buy you breakfast? Please?"

It's in the little things, Sephiroth thinks, how Genesis' eyebrow curls, or how he bites his lower lip. For someone so well used to pretending, his face seems far too expressive. "You're paying," Genesis adds with a chuckle, but there's that underlying question – doubt.

"That's what I said," Sephiroth offers with enough warmth of his own. "Please, follow me."

---

The tavern is small, simple yet welcoming. The dim, orange lights give an illusion of warmth while outside the gloomy morning hangs low and heavy over a city that never trully sleeps, curled up on itself like a wild beast ready to attack if someone is careless enough to mistake the quiet for peace.

The waitress collects their empty plates with disinterest, dark, thickly lined eyes standing out dull and grotesque in her whitewashed face. She's probably just above thirty but looks much older, make up enhancing the early wrinkles of exhaustion. She's probably just waiting for her shift to end, so she can get her well deserved sleep.

"I'll be right here with your drinks," she says, but the cheerfulness of her voice is just as fake as the one created by the red and white checked tablecloths that are put on with the down side up to save on the laundry costs. Sephiroth just nods his head.

There is music in the background, not like they care to listen though. Genesis is drawing idle patterns on the serviette with his finger, waiting for the questions that flit around them so tangible in the stuffy air, but they are easier to ponder than to voice.

The waitress comes back with a colorful plastic tray and Sephiroth wraps his fingers around the hot china of the simple white cup, grateful for the distraction that buys him a precious few more minutes to figure out how to approach the situation. He is saved though by Genesis breaking the silence first, as if reading his mind.

"I was fourteen when I first realised that I could never be the child my parents wanted. At sixteen, I was foolish and hopelessly in love with my best friend," Genesis pulls out his lighter with the quirky purple apple on it and lights a cigarette, blowing smoke towards the ceiling. "Then one day they caught us. No possible misunderstandings, you see. Considering I was on my knees before him... When we were kids, Angeal swore to protect me, did you know that?" he suddenly laughs with bitterness, his arm making another one of those characteristic, sweeping gestures of his.

"Protect you?" Sephiroth muses, somewhat bewildered with the change in topic.

"Everybody but my parents knew I was gay," he redhead shrugs. "Not like I was hiding it. And trust me, there is nothing more sinister than a pack of children with a cause."

"I can believe that," Sephiroth nods, remembers kids he's seen in the church yard, standing around a frog, beating the bloodied creature with sticks and laughing. Is this why Genesis blames Angeal? For not being there to save him from his own stupidity? It doesn't even merit a question, the answers are all too obvious. Just as he thought.

"My knight in shining armour," Genesis reminisces with a touch of humour, the eyes suddenly sparkling with amusement, and Sephiroth thinks he has yet to see another person so quickly changing their mood. "Anyway, in the end, when I refused to be 'normal' again, they just came out with the facts. They weren't my parents, instead, they were just keeping me for the money they got from the state. From that moment on, I wouldn't have gone back if they would've begged for it."

"Your pride again..." Sephiroth shakes his head, but his mind can't stop lingering. Genesis is an orphan, just like him.

"And so what?" Genesis tosses his head, cinnamon tresses blazing to life with the motion. "If the world spits me out, I spit on the world. An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth, isn't that how it's supposed to be?" he adds with humour, challange, blue eyes sparkling over the rim of his cup as he takes another sip.

Sephiroth's gaze drops to those full lips, red with heat and promising the taste of spiced creamed coffee.

"Why would you condemn yourself willingly?" he asks, not quite sure whom he is addressing with the words.

"Damnation, salvation, such majestic words for such small things."

"How can you say...?"

"Why do people need you?" Genesis cuts in, a trace of impatience in his voice, like he is talking about something that should already be evident and Sephiroth frowns.

"What kind of question is that?"

"What do you think, why do they go to church every week, open their souls to you like they never do to another?" and the question actually makes him wonder, because the impetuous redhead seems so sure of himself, even though Sephiroth has no idea what point he is trying to make. It all seems so simple. Maybe a bit overtly so, and it makes his voice slightly hesitant as he replies.

"They come because of their faith, to find their peace and redemption, and our task is to help them along, listen to them and..." he trails off, because Genesis looks so amused, smile telling he expected nothing else, and it leaves him with a feeling of inadequacy.

"Do they, now?" Genesis asks smoothly, so knowing, so triumphant. He just leans back and waits for an answer in silence, cradling his drink with a smirk.

"Explain," Sephiroth finally relents when it becomes obvious the redhead is not about to say anything else and he can't force himself to say of course, even though he has a feeling he won't like what is coming.

"It's rather simple," Genesis shrugs, suddenly serious. "If you take a step back from all the decorative crap people hang on their ideals, you, the church, your faith and religion is nothing but an escape, a tool to warp an ugly reality into something prettier."

"Says the one who doesn't believe in anything," Sephiroth retorts, and Genesis lets a small, cynical laugh slip.

"Says the one who lives off the escapism of others. If you think about it, in a way, we are not all that different, father."

"Such bitterness," Sephiroth shakes his head, but words are not that easy to fend off, so he just goes on. "Just because you have seen darkness, it is foolish to discard the light. Mock the things you crave and you make a mockery of yourself."

There is anger in those azure eyes again, flashing like thunder as the cup hits the table and Genesis rises, hands balling into fists. "Perhaps, I live in darkness... but at least I don't have to lie day after day while looking them in the eye. Good day, father."

"Genesis," he calls after him, but the redhead is already taking his leave without a backward glance. With a small curse (God may forgive him) Sephiroth throws a few bills on the table and hurries after him.

To his surprise, Genesis is standing just a few steps away, leaning to the wall of the building, features lit by the faint glow of the violently orange end of his cigarette. His other arm wrapped around himself, his solitary form appears so forlorn, so easy to crush, and Sephiroth slows down his steps as a fleeting ache constricts his chest despite everything.

"I'm sorry," guilt makes it easier to say the words, the reward in the wobbly smile Genesis grants him with in return, even though his eyes remain fixed on the thin strip of sky visible from between the tall buildings.

He should probably say something more, don't let the silence stretch, but his social skills have always been a little less than adequate, and no experience in the world has prepared him for this. Like anything could prepare someone to interact with Genesis, so passionate, so mercurial, he thinks with a wry half-smile.

A few kids pass them by with huge school bags, chatting animatedly. They spare them a few curious, wide-eyed glances, but by the time they turn the corner they are already back to their little gossips about their classmates, carefree and ignorant. For a moment it strikes him that once Genesis must've been like that too. Before all... all that.

"I should apologize as well. I was selfish," that familiar melodic voice reaches his ears, startling him from his musing.

"I've yet to meet someone with more right to it," Sephiroth says warmly, but Genesis shakes his head, stubs out the cigarette on the wall and lets the butt fall to the ground.

"Someone once told me you can know a good man by the things he is afraid of losing," he steps closer to the priest, looking up from under a veil of auburn tresses. "He also told me I should learn to keep my mouth shut," he adds with a faint smile, and Sephiroth chuckles.

"And what is it you are afraid of losing, Genesis?" he asks then, and the redhead leans close in a gentle waft of cinnamon, clove and tobacco with a small, derisive laugh, his hot breath ghosting over Sephiroth's skin. It feels like an eternity, just standing there like that. He can feel the heat of Genesis' body, making him shiver, making him close his eyes as his heart starts racing, anticipating something, waiting for the redhead to do something but dreading it at the same time.

"I never said I was a good man, Sephiroth. Don't fool yourself into thinking otherwise," Genesis breathes in a sad, shushed whisper, then the heat is gone together with the sense of his presence, and by the time Sephiroth opens his eyes, all he captures is a glimpse of Genesis' coat as it disappears in a side street.

---

The night is unpleasant, not just because of the cold. It's just somehow tacky, clings to the skin humid and... Not like it matters, Sephiroth sighs as he steps out of the house. It is late, no more buses to take, the last train long gone, but it is a priest's duty to always be there for the faithful, and the departure of one in the witching hour cannot be discarded for reasons of comfort. If only he wouldn't have to walk through the streets all alone, but fiat voluntas tua.

He wraps his coat tightly around himself, shoves his hands into his pockets, because even with the gloves, his fingers are threatening to just simply freeze. His gait is sure and steady, thoughts going back to the small flat he had just left behind. Dingy, so achingly poor, home to four kids now without a mother.

He murmurs a quick prayer under his breath for the poor soul.

A car drives past, then more as he nears a more active part of town. One of the seediest quarters of all, with the cheap little shops mostly ran by immigrants and bars that never close.

There are homeless people huddled up under a single spread sleeping bag. The dog that obviously belongs to them lifts its head as he walks past, clever, alert eyes following his movements and suddenly he wishes he had something on him he could give to the loyal guardian.

A bus speeds by, going to some other city, perhaps. The faces staring out the window are blank, wrinkled by fatigue, some of them young, university students going home for the weekend. There are men talking in front of a bar, faces gruff and puffy from alcohol, cigarettes dangling between their fingers. One of them bumps his shoulder against him, no way unintentional, but apologizes with a barely moving tongue when he sees the cross dangling from the priest's neck.

He thinks he recognises one of them from mass, tries not to dwell on it. He should probably tell the man to go home to his family, but looking at them like this, he is not so sure anymore. So he just nods and continues walking.

He looks up at the crossing, one foot already on the road when he notices him, and for a moment he doubts his own eyes.

Genesis.

Gait sure, ever so graceful, hands tucked deep inside his pockets and one end of the white scarf languidly whipping by his side with the force of his movements. A street lamp casts a faint halo of light around him, glints off his hair in a brilliant shade of copper, and suddenly all the world narrows down to that thin back. Before he knows what he is doing, Sephiroth's steps gain speed, keeping up with the redhead.

Genesis should not be here in this neighbourhood, not in this hour. Nor should he, Sephiroth thinks, but dismisses the thought as he sees another group of unshaven, crude men standing around a door, harsh, artificial light from inside turning their faces into threatening masks of shadow and light. Without thinking, he pulls closer to Genesis, but the unease lingers like a heavy mantle that does nothing to ward off the cold of the night.

The drunk cat calls ring harshly vivid and indecent in the small alley and Sephiroth tenses, but Genesis retorts with easy insouciance without a breath of pause. It hurts somehow, to know this is nothing new to him.

Maybe he should just turn around and leave. He can't even be certain why did he come, and the lack of a tangible reason makes him feel awkward and out of place. He should just go home, to the small, cozy living room, hot tea, books, Angeal, and...

Genesis stops before a door that is leading to the basement of the building. Usually, there are bars in these shoddy little holes, but there are no bright lights on here, no signs on the dirty wall. The redhead raises a hand to knock, peeling paint crumbling to the ground at his touch from the weathered metal door.

When it opens a few seconds later, there is music throbbing out into the open, carrying with it faint, oily green light that gives Genesis' skin a loathsome pallor as he disappears into it, like a hollowed spirit descending into Hades.

He has no words for what he is feeling, more than curiosity and less than fear, paralysing mixture that freezes him to the spot, nervous restlessness thrumming through his muscles, the cross like a burning weight under his coat and when the rotting metal door starts closing, he bolts, slips into the crack, left hand gripping it to a halt.

Even through the gloves he can feel its acrid cold, the surface raspy and porous, but it ceases to matter the moment he looks into a pair of dull grey eyes. The man is bulky, perhaps twice as wide as him and a few inches taller, clad entirely in black. Sephiroth feigns indifference and would move on were it not for that enormous body shifting to block his way.

"Haven't seen you here yet," the Cerberus of the place declares, voice deep and the eyes blinking slow, threatening.

He should say something, but the surreality of the whole situation is freezing up his throat, furtive voices wailing in his head, telling him to turn around and leave, but there is something in him that would not allow such cowardice.

"Don't fret Pete, he's with me," silky, laughing voice reaches his ears, and his gaze flutters to the source as if waking from some strange dream.

Genesis is standing at the bottom of the stairs, divested of his coat but substituting the warmth with an arm lazily flung around his waist that belongs to a skinny, tanned young man with a dark complexion, hooking his thumb leisurely into a loop on the redhead's jeans.

Sephiroth can only hope his face is just as blank as usually as he fights to tame the nameless maelstrom inside. "Thank you," he says levelly, and Genesis tosses his head with smug defiance, smiling.

The outfit is really becoming of him, dark, tight pants and a clingy, light shirt occasionally letting a strip of pale, flawless skin show below the waistline. Like this, his body does not appear so much thin but rather wiry, almost fey, sleek in its sensually graceful movements. Not like he is staring.

Genesis leans into the body next to him, flashing a beguiling smile. "Buy me a drink, would you? I'll be right there."

The dark eyes of the other travel to Sephiroth, he can feel the suspicious displeasure in them as they regard him with clear scrutiny, but the stranger finally makes a noncommittal hum and leaves in the direction of the bar. The air seems lighter, the tension is far from lifted though.

Genesis pulls him into the small anteroom to the toilets, the stark black tiles highlighting the anger and accusation on his face. "Why are you here?"

He wants to laugh, because he honestly has no idea. In the end, he just smiles, forced as it is. There is only one thing to be said, even though it feels so useless to say it. "Come back with me, Genesis."

Those blue eyes stare back at him wide and stunned for a moment before the chuckle slips, so bitter, so fake.

"Is it better to be a kept boy then? Suits your morals better?"

"Don't be like that again." Why is he so beseeching, so weak? He has the greatest power behind him, and yet when he looks into those eyes it all seems to dissipate. He can't change people, he can't make them see... not when they don't want him to.

"Again?" Genesis mocks with ire. "This is me, Sephiroth, like it or not, don't say I didn't warn you. I'm not one of your helpless little lambs you can string along and nor do I want to be. I don't need you to save me and I will not be caught up in your one-man crusade."

There is silence, broken, widening. What can be said in the face of so much spite?

Genesis' face softens then, and he steps closer, too close almost, his fingertips caressing down the length of a silver bang framing his face, so much in the eyes, too much, not enough.

"Go home, Sephiroth," he says quietly, gently. "Forget it..."

He doesn't reply, his hand moving as if on its own, sliding into that mass of red hair, soft and silky flames between his fingers. Genesis' face is so close, so open, so vulnerable with question in his eyes. His skin is smooth, addictive under his thumb, and for a moment, his lips tremble as they search each other's faces, closer, closer until that plush mouth is on his, under his, parted, hot, inviting.

It tastes like fire, like the smoke of precious incense, heady and potent, all-consuming like the flames of Hell, Genesis' tongue soft and slick against his, his breath sweet and scalding. The kiss shivers through him, slow, deep, yearning, and he pushes the redhead away like he's been bitten by a poisonous snake. Maybe he was.

"How dare you?" Sephiroth asks with barely contained rage, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. The next moment, he is torn between his anger and the want to reverse everything, to pull Genesis between his arms and shift them back to mere moments ago where he couldn't see the sadness, disappointment and shock in those blue eyes. But then, in less than a blink, it's all gone, hidden under even more defiance as Genesis steps just a bit away, those hips swaying as though they earn his living. Which is exactly what they do, Sephiroth reminds himself bitterly.

"And how dare you?" The tone is accusatory, but also mocking, which seems to be the redhead's default state when he's hurt, but it's also too annoying, and Sephiroth is far too shocked to react sensibly to the entire situation. "Rat holes don't like holier than thou like yourself, father. Now, if you'll excuse me, bacon won't bring itself home on its own." With a simple turn, Genesis is already leaving the room, and Sephiroth might have tried to stop him, if he had the time. Like this, the priest remains frozen there, listening to loud music cut his ears for a second, then stop as the door swings back shut, his arm extended towards it, but it's too late now. Too late.

Sephiroth ends up waiting, for a few moments thinking Genesis might reconsider, but once he pulls himself together and gets back to the loud, the crowd, heat and sin, the redhead seems nowhere to be found. And Sephiroth doesn't remain looking, because he's furious and he needs to vent. And there's only one person who truly is to blame, for everything, until the end.

---

"Angeal." The word is simple, an accusation as much as a call, but the sound of door shutting after it is not. Angeal jerks himself from the letters on the page, leaves the book on the table as he rushes towards the sound, thinking something is amiss. Of course, seeing his friend's face so hurt, so furiously bitter, confirms more than that, and Angeal sighs, partly with relief that no one seems to be dead, and partly because Sephiroth still comes to him first when he needs to confess something pressing his heart.

"He's working again."

And Angeal blinks, buys himself some time to think this through. "Why do you care?"

The question takes Sephiroth by surprise, and he pauses, right in the middle of taking his coat off, still furious and flushed from the freezing cold outside, as well as the feelings he obviously doesn't fully comprehend. Lucky for him, Angeal thinks. He sometimes wishes to have been sheltered as much. There is perhaps a second of pure honesty, innocence on that face, but quickly Sephiroth pulls himself together, as he pulls his scarf off his neck, and suddenly, Angeal realizes, he's much less beautiful than in those short sheltered moments he sometimes succumbs to.

"And why wouldn't I? It's my job to..."

"Your job?" Angeal can't but joke about it. Something as holy as the call, and Sephiroth hides behind sheer professionalism. The Cardinal surely trained him well. "I suppose it's the job you care for then, is it not? Your personal failure incarnated standing right there, reminding you that there's no..."

"He kissed me." There was certainly nothing that could have stopped Angeal's accusatory rambling as these three words. They seem to have frozen him in time, and he just stares as Sephiroth's cheeks remain crimson, and Angeal wonders whether it's really the cold, or...

The moment Angeal manages to pull himself together, he allows his body a long sigh, then he leans to the armrest of the sofa, the closest thing he can find to keep his knees from failing him, because that would be much more embarrassing right now than simple jealousy he seems to be incapable of hiding.

"And how do you feel about it?" Angeal tries to keep his voice warm, but the reaction he gets is far from it. Sephiroth stares at him in bewilderment, eyebrows sliding up as he laughs, quite dryly at that.

"I did not regard my affinities towards an obvious violation, Angeal, don't be preposterous," Sephiroth lies, or at least Angeal hopes he does. He's too hard to read sometimes.

"I'm well aware of the fact that Genesis has his..." Angeal makes a gesture with his arms, and it looks a bit grotesque, albeit meaningless enough. "But are you actually telling me that nothing happened between you that might have prompted him to..." Angeal realizes his voice is much louder than he'd like it to be, and Sephiroth seems terrified of the reaction he most certainly did not predict, not even in his wildest dreams. He tries to keep himself together, because Sephiroth mustn't see him being torn at the seams. "Are you alright?"

Sephiroth ends up chuckling, dryly once more, but definitely far more comfortable than just a minute ago. "Don't exaggerate its meaning, it was just a kiss."

"A kiss between two men," Angeal warns gently.

"It meant nothing," Sephiroth attacks, but to him attack is the best defensive strategy.

"Nothing?" Angeal repeats, needs to assure himself, seems more likely. "Absurd as it may seem, this was your first kiss, Seph, was it not?" He pushes teasing into the words, but fails miserably, and hopes to God Sephiroth doesn't notice it.

"Absurd as it may seem," Sephiroth offers flatly. "Why do I have the feeling you're digressing on purpose? We offered him a place to stay, a shelter, a home, and yet the first chance he gets..."

"You can't save everyone," Angeal interrupts with a sigh. "I sure as hell know I've tried."

Sephiroth folds his arms over his chest. "Forgive me for being blunt, but I can't exactly say you broke your back over helping your friend."

"I have more than one friend, Seph," Angeal ends up blurting out, and he hates himself for liking honesty more than lies. It's been too long anyway. "Besides, Genesis knows our door is always open to him. We can't tie him up to the bedpost, despite the fact it'd keep him off the street."

"If this were you, I can't think of a moral or legal boundary that would stop me from saving you," Sephiroth interrupts, sounding as though he's back in seminary, and Angeal can't help but laugh.

"I can," Angeal adds, and hates himself for it, enough to need to break away, so he pulls himself from his half seated position and tries to flee the room, even though he feels Sephiroth's scrutinizing gaze upon his back.

"You're a pathetic excuse of a friend." Sephiroth is hurt, confused, bitter, and Angeal knows it, but some words just sting too much.

"When will you stop seeing the world as your own personal playground?" he snaps, voice far too loud for this hour. "When will you realize that there are things greater than you, things you have no effect on whatsoever? Stop trying to be a god damned dictator in the name of justice!"

"And why don't you stop putting Genesis on a pedestal?" Sephiroth snaps back, much more collected than Angeal could ever dream to be. "Just because you see wings on his back doesn't make him an angel. They don't sell their bodies for money."

"Oh, shut up!" Angeal snaps, screams at him, and Sephiroth obeys out of pure shock. He has never seen his friend lose his temper so much before, that much is obvious, and Angeal wishes he hadn't, but it's too late now. "You speak of things you know nothing about!"

Sephiroth opens his mouth, but Angeal goes on without giving him a chance to defend himself.

"Have you any idea what he has been through? Do you honestly think he is doing it because it's so much fun?"

"I..." Sephiroth starts, but Angeal turns away with a bitter chuckle.

"I can't expect you to understand," he shakes his head, and Sephiroth feels so much weaker, so much more human, guilty. "I shouldn't have screamed at you."

"Why, sorry for wasting your time, father. I will not impose my incapability on you any longer," Sephiroth responds, acid in his tone, but he is past the point of caring. If this is all Angeal regards him as, then what is the point?

He turns to leave, but Angeal's voice stops him after a few steps.

"Seph, you must know that I..."

The phone rings shrill and indifferent, cutting his sentence, and with a sigh, Angeal walks to the side table and picks up, eyes on Sephiroth, silently apologising.

"Father Hewley speaking."

He should probably just go, leave after all Angeal had said to him, but Sephiroth finds himself just standing there, waiting for whatever revelation was just underway. He sees clearly as worry spreads on that powerful face, just to turn into full blown terror a second later.

"Is he all right? Yes. I will be right there. Thank you," he puts down the receiver slowly, still trying to shake off his shock. Then he looks at Sephiroth, his voice faltering. "Genesis has been hospitalised."

It's awfully cold here

2009-10-15T18:56:39Z

Title: Politics Of The Self
Pairing: Angeal/Genesis, if you squint
Rating: PG
Summary: Where does the mask end and where does your skin start?
Warning: angst
A/N: I'm not exactly satisfied with this piece, but since I rather like the concept, I decided to share anyway. Feedback is appreciated. Beta read by the awesome gothicdragon752. Angeal's POV.

So change your name, just keep your face. We're temporary anyway.
So lose your past. I'm sure you'll find it's in the way all the time.
Before you're through you're someone who looks a lot like you.

/AFI - I Am Trying Very Hard To Be Here/

---

In your appreciation of art, you taught me the means by which one can admire beauty, you taught me humbled awe and whispering adoration. And I admired, adored, worshipped...

In your quest for magnificence, you turned yourself in to the silver and the diamonds, first just the paint, white and red and black and like blood and death and fire. Then the leathers, the uniform of carnage, raw and wild like your essence, and yet so different, so primal.

More paint to follow, more facades to build, and I was content to watch from the backstage because I thought that I could still see you. Only... I'm not so sure now. Have you changed so much, or have you finally finished building your glittering cage without me noticing? When I see a glimpse of you, is that really you, or just another mask you perfected wearing, another decadent scene that perverts your memory?

In your love for perfection, you put on all the masks that they could offer, crimson of strength with feathers of charm, the golden blue of sophistication and loyalty, powerful green and consuming black. Even when you cried, it was rubies, tourmalines and tiger's eye. Before you entirely stopped crying, that is.

With perfection came arrogance, the throne you built on the stars and I thought that being there to catch you when you fall would be enough. I thought I could still see the real you. That the masks would come off, like a shedded cocoon of your fake self, and you could emerge anew, pure angel, raven of the forgotten gods.

Too late did I notice you have walled yourself in.

Too late did I realise that I lost you in that maze of your fortress against the world. That I am trapped outside and don't know how this happened, how I could breach those defences that hide you in a deadly illusion of power and beauty. The wonder of the work of art you have turned yourself into, splashes of color and grandeur that cover up the chipped surface, the cracks, the grey.

Glorious, ungodly talent that taunts with motion, dance macabre of the senses, veiled under the midnight sun like sins of flesh you committed with another, like pure angels in chains, burning in black fire.

And I can't help but wonder... even if you wanted to, could you still get out? And if you have broken your gilded shell, would there be any pieces of you left to pick up?

---

The weather is quite horrible, but still better than most places in the area. Hope you gals in Austria and Germany are okay!

Happy birthday!

2009-10-11T00:24:01Z

Happy birthday, j_cae!

Long overdue prompt is long overdue

2009-10-08T23:46:59Z

Title: Insects and Gods
Pairing: Weiss/Genesis, implied Sephiroth/Genesis
Rating: R
Warnings: blood, violance
Word count: ~1100
Prompt: Weiss/Genesis: Unrequited Love - Brothers in Arms
Summary: Weiss was his, but he did not belong to the Immaculate Emperor.
A/N: Written for areyougame@IJ Beta read by the awesome gothicdragon752.

---

"I could always ask Nero... what were your words again? Pretty little useless Nero to cover you in his darkness, to turn you into nothing within a beat of your verminous heart, brother. Would you want me to? Do you want to die that badly?" the words were hissing, malevolent against his cheek.

"Yes," Genesis answered without a moment of hesitation, hurt freezing over his eyes not focused on Weiss.

Anywhere but Weiss.

"Liar!" a hand gripped his throat, smashed him into the wall, choking, aching, closing in around his neck, bruising and strong, oh so strong when compared to his miserable weakness. His body might have been healed, but true healing would take much more than that.

"If you had really wanted to, you could've put an end to it. But you didn't," the Emperor towered over his frail form, growling, nose so close to his they almost touched. Lips so close they could've shared their breath.

"The end of the world is brought by the duel of the beasts..."

"Save the philosophic crap," the fingers tightened around his neck once again, forcing the back of his head to collide with the wall behind, and for a moment all he could see was darkness instead of the furiously glowing eyes before him. "Do you think you can fool me? Do you think your words are too obscure, that I do not know what you are talking about? Whom you are talking about, brother?"

Weiss was at his most dangerous when he used this tone on him, this sweet, sadistic tone, wolf just about to sink his fangs deep into its prey. Except, he was no prey. He never was. Azure mako eyes narrowed to a thin line, spite and malice in every quiet, powerful word.

"Don't you dare to ever bring him up in front of me, do you understand?"

How could Weiss know? He never told anyone here, and yet Weiss knew...

"Oh, did I touch a nerve there?" the White Emperor smirked into his eyes, insane, insane, insane, Genesis could feel it throb through his veins, the caress of the familiar sweet opium like a thousand loosely woven fibers of poisonous smoke. It was part of the reason why his decision was final.

The other part... he refused to think about.

"The moment I won I'd lost everything," Weiss mimicked his voice, mocking him. "I wonder what did he see in you, your darling Se..."

The slap was so loud it seemed to echo around them. Weiss' tongue sneaked out to lap at the small trickle of blood running down his chin, tasting, savouring it like some sort of bizarre delicacy before he slowly turned his head back to face Genesis, whose mako eyes were now shining death.

"Definitely hit a nerve there," Weiss purred, pressing his body into the redhead's, obviously excited by the little exchange even though his blue-gold gaze remained cold as ice. "If it is a fuck you need, brother, why not just pretend I'm him and be done with it once and for all?"

Genesis felt sickness rising in his throat, but in the end what came out was dark, bitterly amused laughter filled with enough irony to drown in, enough to make Weiss frown irritatedly.

"Insects and gods, Weiss," Genesis whispered sweetly, a taunting, gloating smile on his lips even as his head was yanked back by a hand gripping at his once grey-streaked locks.

"Except, you don't seem like a god anymore, brother," Weiss grunted, fist tightening, bruising, hurting, furious, and one corner of Genesis' lips twitched in pain just the slightest, him covering it up with a wide smile as he watched the rage blooming inside the Immaculate Emperor.

Sephiroth could've told it was fake. He could've told from his breath that he was pulling at the last resorts of his inner strength just to remain standing. But Weiss couldn't, and that was all that mattered at the moment. Even like this, he wouldn't be defeated. Never.

"Perhaps," he agreed, voice frozen and eyes hard enough to pierce stone. "If it is a fuck you need, brother, why not go and look for your pretty little Nero? While I have no interest in your games, he might just see you like you want to be seen," he offered coldly, shuddering inside as long repressed memories of a regal, black ice voice floated to the surface of his conscious like acrid smoke of burnt villages.

"Angeal might see the frail radiance under your arrogant demeanor, he might see the hurt and the soul driven to the brink, but I am the only one who sees that place inside you songbird, the only one who knows that darkness at the core, the animal, the craving, the depths..." strong fingers gripped at him, emerald green eyes shone obsession. "I am the only one who will ever fill that void, songbird, the only one... You are mine, always."

Just a flutter of dark eyelashes it was, a split moment of sight, lust, laughter, friendship, want, trust, sweetness, just a flutter of a butterfly's wing. Just enough for Weiss to close the distance between them, lips pressed to his in cold fury, teeth tearing, lips bruising, hurting, punishing.

Perfect.

Wrong.

He bit, harder until he could taste blood, a strong, metallic tang on his tongue, bitter like acid and thick like October mist, carrying the cursed fire of his bloodline.

Weiss. His flesh and blood. The point where planets stopped their ageless motion to tip over the razor's edge is where it all came together, invisible but compelling like untangible restraints. Weiss was his, but he did not belong to the Immaculate Emperor who broke away from him with a furious hiss.

"I have sacrificed so much for you. So much!" Weiss snarled at him, eyes full of rage cradling hurt, vengeful disappointment. "I offered you the life you craved, the power, the glory, I laid it out at your feet so that you would become our brother in arms, and this is how you repay me?"

Genesis just laughed, hollow, ardent, too proud to utter the words that lingered heavy and silent in the air between them, static and predestined if they chose to believe in it. He knew Weiss knew, and that was all there was, all there ever could be.

Sephiroth's words were his truth, an unforgiven creed eclipsing death and destruction.

Always was. Always will be. His, and his only.

Extreme flail

2009-09-30T21:45:15Z

Miyavi. Tomorrow. Gods.

Those Without Sin: Chapter 03 - Holy Sabbath

2009-09-27T17:59:14Z

Title: Those Without Sin
Fandom: FFVII AU
Authors: sphinxofthenile and _ice_lady_
Beta: gothicdragon752
Dramatis personae: Sephiroth, Angeal, Genesis and a few cameos
Rating: PG13 for now, NC17 altogether
Warning: AU, religious and Biblical themes, blasphemy, mentions of child abuse, homosexuality, priests, prostitution, violence. And priests. Smut. And priests.
Summary: So when they continued asking Him, He lifted up Himself, and said unto them, He that is without sin among you, let him first cast a stone at her. And again He stooped down, and wrote on the ground. (John 8:7-8 KJV)
Word count: 4077
A/N: We apologize for being late. Real life tends to suck sometimes, but at least we're trying to make up for it with the size of this chapter. ;)

03. Holy Sabbath

---

"You are joking," Sephiroth says flatly, laughs in a frenzied manner. He can't exactly accept it.

Angeal's face is blank, eyes sad.

"Tell me you are joking, Angeal," Sephiroth repeats, voice deeper. "Tell me." He's angry, that's why he's squeezing his hands into fists. The fact that his fingers are shaking for some unexplainable reason has nothing to do with it.

Angeal sighs, closes his eyes, opens his lips just a bit to say something, but that's about all Sephiroth needs.

"How could you do such a thing?" He wants to yell, scream, but there are people in the other room, so all Sephiroth allows himself is a pitched whisper. "I've asked you over and over and you do this now? After I practically announced purchasing his..." He makes a face of disgust. "Services! Are you out of your mind?"

"Seph," Angeal tries slowly, gently, even extends his hands to touch Sephiroth, but the other just steps back.

"You... my reputation... you embarrassed me!" Sephiroth manages to spit out the words, unconnected sentences that aren't forming in his mind anymore. At least not in the right way.

Angeal looks like he's about to laugh, oh so very bitterly, but he doesn't. "Is that it?" he asks instead, not much in that voice. Sephiroth's lids squeeze, eyes two thin slits glaring at his friend, coworker, at someone who he always thought he could count on. "Is that really all you can think of?" he asks once more. Sephiroth feels rage building in, shaking his fists, and he wants to do something, anything, but he just stands there. Just stands there and glares at the other. "Is this how you see the world?" Angeal's voice is a mixture of calm and disappointment.

Does that hurt more?

He needs to calm down and think.

"How can you be so selfish? Have you no guilt over how this will look on me? On the Mother Church?" it still comes out far more accusatory than it should. He can't even remember a time when his emotions got the best of him like this, but it is enough to look at Angeal to feel the stab all over again. Never before did he feel so... betrayed.

"That is all that matters now?" Less calm, more disappointment. And a lot more hurt. "The Cardinal taught you well."

Sephiroth thinks, there's nothing that Angeal could have said, nothing else that could have hurt more. Such a low blow, and he is at a loss for words.

"Always the Mother Church first, the facade first. Who cares about the weak and the hurt and the poor, the ones who need help the most? We just cast them aside because they make us appear in a bad light? When did the dignity of the Church become more important than helping people? Because that is why I'm here, Sephiroth. Why are you here?"

"Vatican too much," he whispers, but there is a shadow of a smile on his thin, pale lips. Just like usual, Angeal's words are simple, but there is truth in them, emotion, conviction that affects him despite himself. No wonder the older man has rubbed off on him so much over the years.

Angeal was just trying to do what he thought was right, as always. It is also obvious that his intentions were perfectly in tune with his, it was only the handling of the whole affair that went a bit astray in the process.

"I should've told you. I'm sorry," Angeal looks at him warmly, then his face suddenly lights up, the subtle mischief that is so rare and refreshing at the same time glinting beneath the blue of his eyes. "You can't be holier than Christ."

"I understand he is your friend, Angeal," Sephiroth shakes his head, suddenly all seriousness again. "But you're smarter than that."

"Smarter than what?" Angeal suddenly steps back, and Sephiroth can swear, he can practically see his friend build a wall around him. "Smarter than helping him?"

Sephiroth sighs. "If you had told me, then this today would not have happened," he says, tries to keep his voice calm, even though he's getting angry for reasons he's yet not understanding completely. "And chances are, I've lost a few people out there. Which is worth saving, then, one or five?"

Angeal stares at him as though he's just vanished into thin air. "I didn't know you moonlight in soul trading," he practically spits out, arms folded over his chest. Sephiroth opens his mouth to say something, but Angeal just cuts him off. "There are people out there. Waiting for you," he says. "I'll be in my room." And with that, he turns on his heel and walks away.

---

By all means, it should be different. But then again, it is so typical, Angeal thinks, so human. He has known Sephiroth for so long, worked hard to show the man the world and help him find his place in its bustling flow, to make him understand the people around them. Yet, all too often he would forget that his companion had been raised differently, that old habits and well-taught convictions are much harder to root out than any kind of weed.

Probably this is what is his main source of... annoyance, for lack of a better term. But he knows, changing people isn't that easy, and you cannot learn the things you think you know. Maybe thinking that you actually can make a difference is just another form of pride.

Isn't it God who is supposed to turn the hearts of men? Then again, he is God's agent on Earth. Only, things are never that simple.

He closes the door behind himself with a sigh. He had been wrong. Then again, he tends to when it comes to Genesis, he thinks with a wry curl of his lips. It's so much like Genesis to wreak havoc in their comfortable, if at times a bit (dare he say) dull lives by merely being there.

His eyes on the plain black cross he lowers himself to the kneeler, lowers his forehead to his entwined fingers. He knows many people in the seminary thought him overzealous for spending so much time kneeling before the cross like this, but for him, it is a wonderful way of sorting out his thoughts, of finding his inner peace and seeing the path before him.

Benedictus Deus. Benedictum Nomen Sanctum eius...

Is it wrong that he thinks like he does? He is sure that the Church would say so. It is his task to guide the flock, not to waste allowances on someone who laughs in the face of religion and throws blasphemy like worthless coins. Sephiroth just said what he already knew.

But how could he not?

Benedictus Iesus Christus, verus Deus...

Genesis needs him. No matter how hard he pretends, just the fact that he is there, coming back, tells all Angeal needs to know. And if he turned his back on his friend, he would never be able to live with a clear conscience again. God knows he has enough guilt weighting down on him as it is, not like he needs more.

To make matters worse, his lapse of judgement made a rift between him and Sephiroth, another thing he needs to fix. Sometimes, his whole life feels like he is standing on a sinking ship, trying to cover the holes knowing all too well that by the time he finishes with one there are two new ones to take care of.

He will apologise later on. The problem remains though, as long as Genesis does, Angeal knows that, wishes he could see where it would lead them in the end.

Then again, maybe it's best he doesn't.

Benedictus Deus in Angelis suis, et in Sanctis suis. Amen.

---

The moment he enters, the hum of the usual elevated chit-chat highlighting the low, hushed undertones of the unavoidable small town gossip suddenly comes to a freezing halt. Then the idle chatter picks up as if nothing happened, and he pretends he didn't notice anything. Genesis approaches with a warm smile and Sephiroth's lips turn sharp, gaze icy, and Genesis might wish to pretend he doesn't notice, but they both know the truth.

"Something happened with Angeal?" Genesis tries, mostly to buy himself some time, or so it seems.

"Father Hewley and I," Sephiroth makes sure to stress, "we're perfectly fine. Though, there seems to be a misunderstanding." He notices the chatter losing intensity just so slightly, and Genesis is not a fool either.

"Oh?" Genesis asks with a quirk of an eyebrow and Sephiroth slides his palm to the low of Genesis' back, slowly pushing the redhead towards the door.

"The doors of our blessed Mother Church are always open to you," Sephiroth whispers, leading the two of them, and Genesis' face turns into disgust. "But this is a private party, so if you don't mind..." Genesis doesn't say anything at first. His face is the picture of disappointment and disgust, but he seems too proud to word it.

"Fiat voluntas tua," he says then, takes hold of Sephiroth's hand and bows down, kissing it with utmost respect. Too stunned to react, Sephiroth remains staring as Genesis narrows those expression full eyes before leaving through the front door.

It's hard not to notice the gasps people make, the myriad of eyes upon him. It's hard to not imagine the stories that will sprout in the morning. And it's Genesis' fault, all of it. Sephiroth should hate him. He should hate him for the embarrassment, the awkwardness, all this mess. He extended his arms, he wanted to help, and this is how Genesis returns it?

He has no idea why he feels like his insides have been washed with acid for the rest of the evening, every forcedly polite conversation just another nail to his coffin. So many words exchanged and yet nobody seems to be capable of a simple talk.

---

It's around eleven in the evening that Sephiroth manages to get the last person out, proud with himself for being able to keep a smiling face for so many hours. And even the mess isn't that big, their housekeeper shouldn't have much to do in the morning anyway.

"Hope you're bloody proud of yourself," he hears from from the dark corner as he enters the living room, and he quickly turns the light on, not quite sure what startled him, the fact that Angeal is hiding in the dark, or that he is doing so while being drunk.

"So that's where that bottle of white wine went," Sephiroth offers with a forced smile as he seats himself onto the sofa's armrest, facing Angeal. The bitter smell of wine is quite strong, but then again, the bottle is about half empty and open, so maybe that's not Angeal on his own. "I've been looking for it," he adds, somewhat teasingly, and Angeal offers it abruptly, practically shoves it into Sephiroth's hand.

Sephiroth takes a small sip straight from the bottle, mostly because he knows Angeal expects him to, and not because he'd like some wine. He prefers red anyway, and only in small quantities. Though, after their little parties, he generally avoids it until the next Eucharist, disgusted at how little attention people pay at what they put in their bodies. A grave insult to the Creator.

"I missed you there," he offers and Angeal laughs bitterly.

"One can't escape one's own nature," Angeal offers, yanking the bottle away for another drink. "I'll always be the terrified little pervert, and you the ultimate kisser of everyone's..."

"Angeal!" Sephiroth interrupts with a yell. "You're drunk," he says with a calmer voice, gets up with the desire to leave before this escalates, but Angeal grabs him by the arm, pulling back, pulling close so hard Sephiroth stumbles and falls to his knees before Angeal's chair. "Stop this."

"We can't escape our natures, can we?" Angeal's voice turns rusty, darker with every word and he lowers down, their faces bare inches away. Sephiroth can hear his own heart pounding, too stunned with this entire situation. "You just have to hurt everyone for the love of God, and I just have to hurt you for the love of..." And then he laughs, lets go of Sephiroth just so he can push his own face into his hands. He's an image of a broken man, and now Sephiroth can't leave even if he wanted.

Reluctantly, he places his still trembling hand onto Angeal's hair, and Angeal jerks at the touch, but he doesn't pull away, just sighs as Sephiroth keeps on stroking those tresses gently.

"I think today was just too long for all of us," Sephiroth offers in a warm whisper and Angeal looks at him, warily, relaxing his palms on his own knees.

"There's so much good in you hidden under all these rules," Angeal says and tugs Sephiroth's hand away, taking hold of the bottle. "Go and sleep, father. Forget tonight ever happened," he says and Sephiroth pulls himself up. "You get used to it after a while. I know, I did."

Sephiroth decides to leave without a comment. However, he does not forget, and the words spoken linger on his mind for long while, keeping him awake in bed for hours.

---

For the next few days, it seems as though someone died. Angeal refuses to speak to Sephiroth unless it's really necessary, and Sephiroth feels too guilty to try and push his way back in. Then, one night that seems to be the type to make one consider snow a comforting thought, Genesis appears on their doorstep about half an hour after midnight. The bell startled both priests, and they meet in the main hallway with sleepy eyes, glancing at one another before Angeal opens the door.

At that point, Sephiroth feels the atmosphere turning back to normal, as Angeal grabs Genesis in his arms, holds the freezing shaky body tight before shoving him inside. "Water leak in the building," Genesis says, "Damned... forgive me father," he quickly adds, glancing at Sephiroth and the priest just nods, "ice broke the pipes and they shut down everything. God only knows when heating will be back, and it's..."

"It's okay," Angeal comforts, holds Genesis once more before urging him to take his almost frozen clothes off while he orders Sephiroth to quickly bring all the blankets; start the water for the tea; find the extra bedding, see if they still have the electric blanket, and that's the point where Sephiroth stops listening and proceeds with digging through the bottoms of the wardrobes.

A few minutes later, Sephiroth appears with a handful of what he managed to find, and Genesis is already standing there in the middle of the living room, wrapped in blankets, his soaked, dirty clothes a heap on the floor. It's only now that Sephiroth sees the bluish undertone of those lips, around the eyes and the unnatural red glow of the far too quickly heated cheeks.

"Keep him company, please," Angeal orders, grabbing the bedding from Sephiroth's hands and Sephiroth just smiles, pointing to the kitchen where the teapot is already whistling (when did Angeal manage, Sephiroth has to wonder), and Genesis follows with a grateful smile.

Sephiroth quickly opens the radiator valve, listens to the water surge through the pipes, and Genesis seats himself to one of the chairs, holding the blankets tight, his shivers slowly subsiding.

"I don't bite," he whispers, voice coarse as though he's about to catch a cold, though Sephiroth knows it's been a while since that one had been caught, and its effects are just announcing their presence.

"Anybody but yourself," Sephiroth answers to that one, with a bit of an edge to his voice, but he refuses to let the bad feelings linger in his heart. He quickly takes the now screaming teapot off the fire, and grabs one of the mugs, fills it almost to the top and hands it to Genesis. True, the tea is weak, but Genesis needs it mostly for the heat, not the taste.

He pours himself a glass full of cold water instead, before leaning his hip onto the sink, forcing a smile as he looks back at Genesis. "You really should learn to ask for help when you need it."

Genesis opens his mouth, muscles in his jaw tensing with that fire, so much hotter than the small kitchen ever could receive. Almost burning the air. But he doesn't speak, at least not what he's thinking. "I didn't need it earlier." He bites into his own teeth hard, focuses onto the steaming mug.

"You're blue," Sephiroth states the obvious and it makes Genesis produce that cynical chuckle of his, and Sephiroth needs to keep on reminding himself it's not spite but pride that keeps Genesis from reaching out, that keeps him from blocking Sephiroth oh so perfectly. "I apologize. I just..." Maybe it's better to bite his cheek than speak, but Sephiroth just can't help himself. And even after downing the glass, letting the water wash him from within, his mind lingers on similar thoughts, so he decides to word them. "Why don't you let others take care for you? Is your ego really that big that you're incapable of accepting others are maybe better suited for the task?"

"Oh, fuck you," Genesis spits out almost before Sephiroth finishes his own verbal attack. "You and your crystal towers and bookworm experience, real life would fuck you with a rusty rod." It's when Genesis finishes the string of obscenities that Sephiorth notices that spark of amusement appearing in Genesis' eyes. He's made a mockery of himself and is not afraid to admit it. "That came out wrong, didn't it?" Genesis asks with enough humour pointed at himself.

"Well, I know I wouldn't dare repeating it, no," Sephiroth offers, keeping the amusement in the undertone. Blasphemy or no, he finds he has been missing this. "But then again..." And that's definitely treading into the forbidden area, and Sephiroth quickly freezes. Genesis just rolls his eyes, and it's enough of a gesture to pull out the worst from the priest as well. They're only human in the end. "Why?" It really is a simple question, though Sephiroth knows he shouldn't usher it. Damned Genesis be, he'd think but he's better than that, damned he be for pulling the worst out of him. "I apologize," he adds with a sigh and Genesis winks.

"I'll bare my soul only if you reciprocate."

"Dare I demand an explanation?"

"Rather simple, father," Genesis offers with a tinge. "I share my reasons only if you share yours."

Sephiroth raises his eyebrows and relaxes a bit, small smile playing at the corners of his lips. "I think that's a fair bargain," he offers. "I'm a priest, because..."

"Oh, trust me, I know far more about the justifications the clergymen use than you could survive knowing," Genesis quickly interrupts, a wink forming in his eyes, but he doesn't let it through. "In that aspect, you can't really surprise me. What I want to know is why you do your business so diligently, with so much bitterness for the... common folk." Sephiroth offers a quirk of an eyebrow, which just serves as an amplifier to the dare in Genesis' eyes. "Why do you hate other humans so much? What have they done to you?"

With a sigh, Sephiroth pulls himself away from the sink, leaves the glass in it and sits to one of the chairs, looking at Genesis. "Alright," he whispers, forces a smile and breaks the eye contact, because he's thinking or is just ashamed. "Sitting in that little wooden box, every day," he starts, pauses for a second because he knows he shouldn't be talking about it, he shouldn't be degrading his mission, his call, but sometimes he just feels so alone. Angeal will never understand this. They're completely polar in this one aspect. "You can't even fathom the things I know about people, the things I know I could use against them. You have no idea what's going on in other people's minds, the thoughts another human shouldn't even know. It's just... so much..." He'd love to say 'power', but is thankful when Genesis interrupts him with a snort.

"I know places where you can get a ten year old for the night," Genesis spits out, forces a laugh, then keeps quiet because he knows he's overdone it.

"I really wanted to help others, bring the light, but I simply find myself being sucked into their darkness."

"Sadly, that's life," Genesis offers warmly, and he means it, not just because Sephiroth finds his hand covered with the other's, skin so warm but so cold within. "And it sucks."

It makes Sephiroth chuckle, ever so slightly. "You really don't need to answer if..." he tries and Genesis shakes his head, pulls that warm and cold hand away to wrap his blanket tighter.

"I'm not ashamed of what I do," he quickly states, forces confusion to Sephiroth's face and laughs. "It's a dirty job, but someone has to do it. It brings money and, if you set your mind the right way, it can be less damaging than you'd think. Or I'm just fooling myself, but what's a pretty boy with no education like me to do?"

"There are surely jobs..." Sephiroth starts but Genesis' eye roll stops him.

"Forgive me, father, for being so blunt," Genesis says then, completely ignoring the redundancy of those words, "but you really don't have any grasp of the real world, do you?" Sephiroth looks down, and it's not shame but the lack of will to get trapped in the same path with no end once again. "It really isn't that much of a story, I promise," Genesis teases, but he keeps his eyes away. "You'd be surprised how good you become at stealing and pickpocketing once you realize it's the fastest way for food to get into your stomach. Of course, the cops generally knew me. They'd catch me, lock me up, put me in one of those places where they should help me," Sephiroth can't but admire how well Genesis is at hiding his disgust. The fact that he's not perfect at it this time shows how much he loathes those times. "I'd escape, of course. Every single time. You have no idea how easy it is to get lost in today's civilized world. Global village they call it, no?" He looks at Sephiroth pointedly, eyes so cold, so shaded with self control and mock amusements. "One time they made a mistake, or they were just overbooked, I don't really remember, hell I don't really care," he snorts, "and I ended up locked up for the night with a man who was way out of my league."

"As in?" Sephiroth urges, tensing on his seat.

Genesis laughs. "As in I stole a microwave and he killed two people."

"Good god," Sephiroth gasps, realizes he's gripping his fingers tight, so he relaxes them with a bit too much mental force involved.

"Oh, don't worry, father, my life isn't as interesting as your imagination is," Genesis teases then, something in those eyes squeezing around Sephiroth's heart. "He was a nice man. A real gentleman, if you will. I spent the entire night annoying the very core out of him, but somehow he ended up helping me... in my new profession, you see." He turns his eyes on Sephiroth, and it seems as though he likes the way the story has been told. He's proud of himself, and it's horrible, in Sephiroth's opinion, having to see those instant changes, from disgust to pride, as though Genesis is torn himself.

"Where is he now?" Sephiroth finds himself asking though, by the creep climbing up his spine, he thinks it's better not knowing.

Genesis forms a small shrug. "Security isn't exactly in the triads' job description," he offers and Sephiroth sighs.

"I'm... sorry." It's hard to say it, it's just too much information that Sephiroth would like to unknow, but things don't work that way.

"In a way, so am I," Genesis offers, still smiling, and still proud, no disgust. "Poor Tseng, he really did have a thing for redheads." And then he's just cheeky, looks at Sephiroth, and the priest's cheeks turn crimson and he looks down, because there are things in those eyes he doesn't like all of a sudden.

People are always asking me if I know Tyler Durden.

2009-09-25T20:57:50Z

Watching Fight Club made me happy. Ooooh yes.

Title: Single Serve Mayhem
Pairing: Tyler/Marla, Tyler/Jack
Rating: R
Disclaimer: I don't own anything but my sick mind.
Word Count: ~400
Warning: language, violance
A/N: Just a little something that popped into my mind after seeing the movie. Proof that I have a life outside Crisis Core, I guess. Not beta read. Probably sucks, but when Tyler talks to you, you shut up and write. You be the judge how authentic his voice is.

---

Jack. You little shit.

Who would've thought? That you would have the guts to pull the trigger.

I am your guts, after all.

Hell, everything you have you got from me. Your men, your reputation, the bloody freedom you didn't even dare to dream about. What you are afraid to understand.

I even fucked that stupid flipped cunt because you perfect little cocksucker were too much of a pansy to do it yourself.

Just looking at the two of you holding hands as my perfect plan enfolds makes me feel like throwing up.

Fuck, my head hurts. You bastard. You fucking bastard.

Hahahaha.

Oh Jack, you should know by now that I strive on pain. Don't worry, I'll be there to pull the broomstick out of your conformist lily white ass.

Like that one time in the basement. Do you remember it, the taste of blood, sweat and semen?

Of course you do. You just keep telling yourself it was a dream.

I only do what you want me to do, you know that.

You think it's over now? I am Jack's single serve happy ending?

You wear my mark, Jack. Always.

You are so pathetic, whining all the time, I'm so fed up with your stupid shit, Marla, Bob... what of Angelface, you goddamn boy scout? Scream at me all you want, you hypocrite fucker, but it was you who turned his face into pulp, not me.

God, let me lick that blood from your neck.

Screw you, screw you, Jack.

You are not beautiful, you are not a perfect little snowflake, you son of a bitch.

You are not strong. You are not possessive.

I am.

You want me gone, you pathetic little wretch? No such luck. You need me too much, Jack. That is why I'm still here. I knew you couldn't do it.

You don't dare to die. Not yet.

You think this was it? My great plan?

God, do you realise how pitifully see-through you are?

Yeah, sigh in relief, Jack. Tell her it's going to be all right.

Damn right it will. I'll be there to make sure about that. There is still a lot for us to do, Jack.

Just push the damn whore out the window, you know it will be beautiful to watch her fall. Maybe I feel like destroying something beautiful too.

This grin I can't help.

There is a Corvette parked behind this glass shithole. Red. Just my color.

Before those fires are out, I have a plane to catch.

See you there, Jack.

Opiate Red Night, Part 2

2009-09-24T22:49:50Z

Title: Opiate Red Night (2/2)
Pairing: Lazard/Sephiroth/Genesis, Rufus/Tseng, mentions of others
Rating: NC-17
Beta: white_jenna
Warning: AU, prostitution, threesome, alcohol, food play, facial, oral, asphyxiation, masturbation, rimming, toys, voyeurism. And sex. Lot’s of it.
Disclaimer: I don't own them, they own me.
Summary: Shinra striking a bargain with Wutai calls for celebration. Fortunately, Rufus knows exactly just where to take the party.
Word Count: ~14 000
A/N: Remember all those things I said about Lazard/Genesis not happening? Well, you try to argue with the sneaky bunny of doom. All white_jenna's fault, to whom this story is dedicated with much love. Oh, and that part about Loveless… it just happened. Written mostly to the song Revelation 22:20 by Puscifer which I had on endless repeat.

---

After the elegant but simple anteroom, the living area came as a surprise. So much so that Lazard didn't even bother hiding it. The room reflected the touch of a confident mind bouncing from one extreme to the other in a wildly haphazard way that still managed to form a coherent whole.

Apparently, Genesis couldn't care less that currently the minimalist designs imported from Icicle were in fashion, and kept to the lavish grandeur of turn of the century Midgar tamed by a touch of Wutai simplicity and something Lazard coudn't quite put a finger on, an air of the south combined with an obvious appreciation of art nouveau.

With his taste often labeled as eccentric by others, Lazard immediately felt at ease, taking a seat in one of the armchairs turned towards the unusual kidney shaped couch and restraining himself from asking about the man's shopping schedule.

It was one thing to fuck a whore, and it was an entirely different one to appear with one in public.

There were better things to occupy his mind with than thinking, anyway. Like watching Genesis sitting on the huge, red satin covered bed and slowly, oh so slowly getting rid of his mostly unbuttoned shirt.

The place where the bed stood was obviously meant to serve as the bedroom, but the walls had been taken out and now it was in the same space as the living room. This strange little taste of libertinism sent blood to Lazard’s groin again, the blatant display making the secrets surrounding the redhead as if running in his blood all the more taunting.

Off went the shirt, pooling on the floor, forgotten and discarded, letting his eyes roam pale skin, lean muscles and the slim back that arched as Genesis leant forward to unclasp the buckles holding the leather of his boots in place. Practiced, slow, blue eyes glancing up from the shadow of red hair and remaining that way, locked on something behind Lazard as the movements slowed down even more, back curving into a seductive wave in synchrone with lips curving into another wicked smile.

Lazard knew Sephiroth was there before those strong arms sneaked around him from behind, silver hair falling around him with the move like a frozen waterfall.

Genesis’ eyes were an almost malicious pale sapphire as he watched them watching as he moved to the other leg, working on the other buckles, running his free palm up his other leg, up the thigh, the hip, then down down down again.

Damn, he was good, Lazard swallowed thickly as those legs parted, pure invitation for anyone to take this one chance and yet Genesis went on as if he didn’t even notice his own body language. Something that, oh, he just knew it, couldn’t have been further from reality. It was all written in those eyes, in that smile, and he suddenly felt the need to wet his lips.

Genesis pulled off the boots, one after the other, straightening, pushing his hair out of his eyes, sending them a look of pure daring, blazing, confident seduction from under lowered eyelashes, fingers sliding along the hem of his pants all the way to the zipper.

Then they stayed there, drawing little circles.

His other hand came up, nails scraping down his throat lightly, tendons flexing under the touch just to find both his wrists caught in an iron grip, pushed back and pinned to the mattress in the blink of an eye.

The small squeeze of Lazard’s hand was encouragement enough for Sephiroth to know he had the freedom to do whatever he wanted. And what he wanted was to teach a certain redheaded tease locking those ice-melting bedroom eyes with his that Genesis wasn’t granting them with his good graces when he agreed to spend the night with them. No, far from it, and like it or not, now he was Sephiroth’s for the taking.

High time to earn all that money.

From the smirk gracing those lips, it was evident that Genesis knew that too. From the look in those eyes, that he didn’t mind in the least. Blues locked with green, he just raised an eyebrow, pure taunting, but Sephiroth wasn’t interested in playing that game. His eyes raked over the body beneath him, more muscular than Lazard’s, but the shape still lithe enough to be close, pale skin stark against the red sheets beneath.

He slid his free hand down and popped the button open, eyes never leaving those of Genesis, waiting for his responses like a hawk looking for prey. This was his game, his carefully constructed play because he knew Lazard was watching… A smirk crossed his lips as he pulled the zipper down with care but without hesitation, Genesis’ hips rising immediately to give room for easing the tight pants down his smooth thighs.

Oh, he would make this beautiful little vixen writhe and moan for them, and to his own surprise, he found himself looking forward to it, not just to hear Lazard’s quiet breathing speed up and turn to excited gasps, but to see the redhead’s hopelessly arrogant face contort, open up, to hear the raw sounds of pleasure roll off those beautifully swollen lips, that sweet tongue.

He leaned in for a kiss, first just dipping his tongue into that hot, slick mouth, flicking it against Genesis’ own meeting his intrusion eagerly. Then he let the redhead suck it in, still able to taste Lazard on him, making his cock twitch against Genesis’ thigh who immediately moved to kick his pants off the rest of the way. Only the simple, narrow black silk briefs remained, clinging to slim hips like a second skin.

Sephiroth could feel those thin, deceptively fragile wrists move against his hold as Genesis lifted a knee to rub against his inner thigh, but he wasn’t interested in giving up his position anytime soon. He broke the kiss to get rid of the remainder of his own clothes though, wanting to feel skin on skin, smooth and soft and warm, just like his fingers already told him it would be.

He ran them lightly over a nipple, watching as it hardened a bit under the fleeting touch, as the redhead’s jawline tensed just a bit, just enough to show. He settled beside Genesis on the bed, his cock pressing against hot flesh and leaving a slick little trail of precome across Genesis’ trim waist as he leaned forward to take the other nipple into his mouth, sweeping his long hair past his right shoulder so that it pooled on the bed instead, granting Lazard with a perfect view.

It was all too beautiful, the way that lithe body shook with small tremors of his ministrations, fighting so hard not to arch into his touch, and Sephiroth lifted his head to smugly lick his lips. He proceeded to press hot, open-mouthed kisses on Genesis’ chest, suddenly determined to strip the man of his self-control.

Usually, the whores they picked up would either just lay there and take it or put up an exaggerated act, but Genesis was holding back and it was new, and a challange. It was just too tempting not to take up, and Sephiroth traced the muscles back to a hardened nipple, tongue sneaking out for a tentative lick as his free hand feathered over that flat abdomen, and suddenly there it was, the first hitch in Genesis’ breath. He retraced the path of his fingers. He sank his teeth into waiting flesh, but this time around there was nothing but the music of panting breaths.

He lifted his head to look at the redhead’s face, and there it was again, a quiet gasp as the silky mass of Sephiroth’s hair brushed against his neck. Content with the discovery, Sephiroth moved in for the kill, mouth swooping down on the tender throat, nipping, licking, teeth scraping down the Adam’s apple to be rewarded by the reverberation of deep, reluctant moans under his lips. Increasing in both volume and intensity as he bit and sucked harder, rougher, working down the elegant column of flesh as if wanting to mark every inch of pale skin in reach.

He smirked at a particularly loud sound torn from Genesis as he brushed cinnamon strands out of the way to press his mouth to the small hollow just below the ear and felt the other’s hands twitch against his hold. Genesis was so beautifully responsive and surprisingly vocal too, something he found himself fascinated with and all too delighted to take advantage of

Oh, he missed this. He didn’t even realise how much, how long it had been since Lazard and he got to play like this, and he certainly was going to make the most of it.

As he hovered above the redhead, those gorgeous long legs came up and wrapped around his middle, but instead of grinding up against him, Genesis suddenly gripped at him tight and with a twirl of his body flipped their positions, his pinned wrists leaving the bed as Sephiroth’s own hands moved with the momentum.

Now, Genesis was straddling his thighs, wrists still held by Sephiroth, but in this position it wasn’t important anymore. The self-satisfied smirk on Genesis’ lips was proof enough, and Sephiroth reluctantly let go to reposition his hands on the other’s hips, thumbs caressing the hipbones in small circles.

“Presumptuous,” he purred, more amused than anything else, but the gleam in his eyes was dangerous.

“Would you want anything less?” Genesis placed his palms on the silver representative’s chest, leaning forward to ghost above forceful, sculpted lips with his own. He craned his head, hot breath trailing along the jawline and down the regal throat, making sure his hips pressed against Sephiroth’s just right.

Stretched out on top of him like this, Sephiroth could’ve easily reversed everything. Genesis was offering it on a silver platter, but he was right. Sephiroth liked the game, and would see to the end on his own terms. For now, Genesis slowly starting to grind against him wasn’t such a bad thing. Until it stopped and the redhead pushed himself up onto his knees.

“If you would be so kind,” his eyes smirked down at Sephiroth, who took the invitation and hooked his fingers under the flimsy black material, pulling lightly, but Genesis was all too ready to take up a challange even when there wasn’t one, shaking his hips a little to shimmy his way out of the clingy underwear with a wink Lazard couldn’t see but what made Sephiroth’s cock throb a bit harder with arousal.

Satisfied with their state of undress, Genesis lazily glanced at Lazard seated comfortably in one of the armchairs, still impeccably dressed, just the small wrinkles and his slightly tousled hair giving away the blowjob he got earlier. His intent gaze was fixed on the two of them and Genesis licked his lips. If the blond was getting off on watching, then Genesis would give him the show of a lifetime.

Arching his back he thrust forward, a slow, fluid drag of hips against hips, and if the way Sephiroth’s eyelids lowered and Genesis sank white teeth into his plush bottom lip was any indication, the friction was nothing short of glorious.

Neither was the way Genesis moved, all wanton undulation and smooth grace, lean muscles dancing under pale skin, throat flexing as he tipped his head back and back curving wickedly again as his tongue did things to Sephiroth’s that left Lazards lips dry and groin pulsing with the beginning of a new erection.

He slid his hand down, unfastening his pants and slipping inside. His lips twitched a bit as he felt cool skin on hot flesh, gradually heating up as he freed his length from its confines and slowly traced the underside with his gloved fingertips, eyes on the bed and the two man occupying it. His caresses remained steady, composed even as his eyes darkened with the renewed burn of lust coursing through him.

And burn it did, especially when Genesis pulled away, pushing himself up on his knees again, long, elegant fingers wrapping around Sephiroth’s cock and rubbing the head against his entrance, lips parting in a silent gasp.

It took Lazard a moment to realise that the moan cutting through the air slipped from his lips, hand stroking faster, tighter.

“Sephiroth,” he warned, and the next moment Genesis found himself on his back again and Sephiroth looming above him.

“My turn,” he purred, green eyes wickedly taunting, hungry, amused even as he felt the bed dip under the weight of another body.

Genesis just licked his lips, a gentle swipe of his pink tongue over his kiss swollen mouth in lustful invitation, taunting, daring.

“Well, I’m all yours for the night,” he put his arms around Sephiroth’s neck, eyes searching those emerald depths with calculating interest in the disguise of playfulness. “Let’s make the best of it, shall we?”

Sephiroth just smirked, feeling those fingers caressing the nape of his neck and sliding into his hair. He glanced at Lazard, pupils wide, grey eyes ablaze with the same anticipation he knew could be seen in his as well. He leaned in for a kiss, silver brushing against gold, mouth against mouth, slowly, passionately, and Sephiroth chuckled into the kiss as he felt Genesis buck against him at the sight. He broke the kiss to run a fingertip down the redhead’s throat, circling an already formed mark he had left there, the gasp the other man made music to his ears.

“Impatient?” he all but purred, his other hand sliding between their bodies for a few teasing strokes, determined to wipe the coy, saccharine smile from those lush lips, revelling in the delightful responses the other gave. But he craved more to quench his thirst, more of the game, more of the burning want in Lazard that rolled off him like waves of heat, more of the sweet rapture offered by the intoxicating redhead pinned under him.

“Turn around,” he whispered into Genesis’ mouth between light kisses, shifting his body to allow movement for the other and the man was quick to comply.

It was making him feel too vulnerable, offering his back to a complete stranger, but Genesis hoped the smile covered up his slight discomfort. At least it was somewhat reassuring to have Lazard slide closer and take his hand, thumb stroking it lightly. It caused small sparks of desire tingle his skin.

Then Sephiroth descended on him, that hard mouth travelling down his back, licking, nipping, caressing, mapping every inch of his skin was threatening to drive him wild. Being savoured was a feeling that he never expected and had yet to experience to the fullest. Those torturous lips were slowly travelling lower and lower, the hands stroking the back of his thighs, and Lazard chose that exact moment to press a kiss to his palm that sent a jolt of pleasure through his body.

Distracting enough that he only noticed what Sephiroth was up to when he was already spread and that slick tongue showed no signs of stopping its descent on his body anytime soon. The moan ripped from his throat sounded far too loud in his ears for his liking, as did the hiss that followed it.

"What...?" he squirmed, trying to get away, but was restrained by a strong lower arm pinning his hips to the mattress.

"Nobody has ever done it to you?" the silver haired man asked with sinister amusement far too obvious in his voice, his head cocked to the side, Genesis could tell it from the shift of that endless mass of hair that made the redhead want to grip at it and pull with all his strength. At the surprisingly gentle nudge of long fingers he had no choice but to give in though, pushing himself on his knees, the weight of his upper body supported by his elbows digging into the sleek red material of the sheets.

"No," he managed to groan between gritted teeth, irritated with the way Sephiroth seemed to point out a shortcoming when it only derived from the fact that it was something his clients expected him to do. But before he could’ve pointed that one out, Sephiroth lowered his head again and continued his lazy exploration that rendered the redhead to a state of helpless writhing and moaning, Lazard's fingers now gliding over his cheekbone, sliding to toy with his hair.

"Isn't it glorious?" the blond whispered to him. "To have him fuck your ass with his tongue? He's always been so good at using it."

Genesis wanted to answer that, he really wanted to... But all that passed his lips was another gasp as his lids fell closed and his back curved to press him closer to that hot, relentless mouth, the strong hands deliciously kneading his ass, adding to the sensations washing through him. Lazard's lips nibbling along his came as an unexpected mercy, silencing his needy little mewls and whimpers as he deepened the kiss, tongue mirroring Sephiroth's ministrations.

"Someone has prepared for the evening, I see," the silver representative said as he finally pulled away, his hands staying in place though, their movements never ceasing. The obvious appreciation in his light caresses made Genesis shiver inside with bittersweet bliss, a curtain of dark lashes lowering momentarily over bright blue eyes.

"It comes with this line of occupation," Genesis smirked, stretching sensously, slowly, trying to entice and get away at the same time, to clear his thoughts of the lustful spell the two of them so expertly wove around him. This just won't do, no, not at all. Pushing himself up to a kneeling position he licked his lips and turned around to trace the shell of the ear in front of him with the tip of his tongue, trying to catch his breath. "Unless you want to do it yourself," he breathed on skin hotly, loving the way those arms finding their way around his waist tensed and crashed him against that powerful body roughly.

"Maybe I do," Sephiroth purred dangerously, heavy lidded eyes locked with his as Genesis lifted up his left hand and gave his fingers a tentative lick.

"I want you to fuck him," Lazard whispered, panted almost, shifting closer to his lover and kissing a fervent trail down Sephiroth's jaw line, blunt nails scraping over a hardened nipple and down to one of the hipbones, earning a shudder and a sigh.

Genesis suddenly laughed out loud, the open and amused expression on his flushed face with the lively twinkle in his eyes betraying the vixen he truly was. "This is lovely," he said finally, unable to supress the cynical smile spreading on his face, and Lazard raised an eyebrow questioningly. "He gives you the reins, and you get off on seeing him dominate. You Shinras really do have issues."

"Don't ever call me that," Lazard nearly hissed through his teeth, fingers pulling the redhead by the hair into a biting, punishing kiss, and loving the way Genesis fought back with equal vigour, refusing to just simply roll over for him. He bit harder, wishing for the redhead's surrender but finding he enjoyed the struggle instead, his original intentions burning out in the raw passion ignited by their contact. Finally he relented, gladly swallowing the low moan that escaped the other’s mouth, satiating his spark of anger and morphing it into sheer want.

"Top drawer," Genesis purred breathlessly once they broke apart, pulling him in for another kiss immediately, ravaging his mouth like he was hungering for something he could get from no one else. Not that Lazard minded in the least. Especially as he heard Sephiroth release a shuddering breath, felt his fingertips trailing down his spine in a silent plea his lover was too proud to utter in front of a stranger.

Lazard was all too happy to give his permission.

Turning back, plastic bottle in hand, Sephiroth was greeted with the sight of the two still caught up in tasting each other, their kisses slow but intense, slick, open mouthed. His cock twitched with want as he watched, Genesis' hands roving Lazard's body, ridding him of his suit jacket with undeniable haste.

The redhead attacked the buttons next, parting the thin fabric and sliding his hands under it as his lips trailed down the director's jaw, neck, shoulder, raining kisses, licks, nips on sensitive flesh all along the way, long, elegant fingers teasing nipples until they hardened under his touch.

Lazard could do nothing but hiss and moan, body arching even as his eyes met Sephiroth's halfway under his glasses, usually cool grey ablaze with lust. He craned his head, honey blond hair tickling his back as his shirt was removed by Genesis' impatient hands, a groan resonating in his throat as teeth sank into his shoulder, possessive and bruising.

It made the silver haired man shudder with violent heat, the image of his lover coming undone for another. Genesis was right, and with Lazard holding the reins, it was rarely the case that their thirds approached the blond, and practically no one after they learned about their arrangement, if they ever figured it out, that is. They were all too happy to make do with Sephiroth, unlike the haughty, self-centered redhead, and it set something inside him ablaze, sending blood straight down.

Glued to the spot, his green eyes raked over bare flesh, the play of demanding lips on muscles, fingertips ghosting over sensitive spots, Genesis' tongue darting out now and then to leave a wet path on pale smoothness and return to taste more of the shallow moans and needy whimpers that Lazard couldn't hold back, fuelling the redhead's advances on.

There was so much calculated professionalism in those touches, so much experience it should've been alarming, but what Genesis managed to turn into the promise of fulfilling their every dream and then some more. It made his pupils widen with want, hands itching to join the game but at the same time afraid to ruin the spell Genesis was so expertly weaving with each kiss and caress. He watched as the redhead pushed Lazard down to the soft bedding with gentle, seductive determination, his lithe body moving to cover the blond as he sucked on his lower lip, hands making quick work of the pants still in the way.

"Just relax," he whispered into Lazard's mouth, his tongue reaching out to tangle with his in a slowly burning kiss. "Let me take care of you."

He pressed his lips to the blond's as if to seal an unspoken deal, moving down his body with the slithering movements of a snake, all muscles and sleek grace, deadly poison Sephiroth found himself more and more wanting a taste of.

"I don't do this," Lazard managed between heavy breaths, fingers entangled in fiery copper hair, but determination lacking in his push.

"Hush," Genesis repeatedly dipped his tongue into the blond's navel, forearm coming up to lightly press on his waist, making it obvious movement was not desired on his part, unless it meant bucking closer to that teasing mouth. Which Lazard did, earning a lecherous smirk from those deliciously devious lips. They worked their way down, purposefully avoiding the one place Lazard wanted them to go, hands taking the pants with them as they went, until the blond was lying there completely naked, Genesis' appreciative gaze sliding up to meet lust-hazed greys, a small grin lighting up his face at the sight of blood bringing color to the director's features.

"I'll make it worth it," he purred into Lazard's ear, pulling the soft lobe between his teeth, tugging on the pearl stud and loving the way the older man melted into his touches with a small gasp against his will. Genesis' hands seemed to be everywhere, on his chest, his thighs, his neck, making him moan, arch into the caresses of delicate fingers.

Sephiroth never thought seeing his lover like this would prove such a turn on, far better than anything they've ever tried before. He barely noticed when he moved, finding himself beside the two of them, fingers of his left hand idly running down Lazard's arm.

"High time you decided to join the fun," Genesis broke contact with Lazard's skin in favor of speaking, his blue eyes holding an outright invitation and such a self-satisfied smirk Sephiroth was fairly certain he had never seen before on any one of the many businessmen or women he ever had to deal with. Such a small thing, but it was enough to make him want to wipe it away, to force his own will onto the man who dared to act like he owned them and not the other way around.

He pulled the redhead into a kiss, brief, forceful and consuming, a promise and a threat of things to come. It just seemed to amuse Genesis more, pulling at invisible strings Sephiroth had no idea were there. However, the thrill was too intoxicating, just like the taste of cinnamon, sugar and musk in the redhead's mouth, and he gave a long suck to that wicked tongue before sitting back and letting Genesis get back down to business.

The smaller man took the lube from him with a sly smirk before he leaned down again, sliding a warm palm reassuringly over Lazard's side, drawing long, pleased sighs from the blond as he lavished attention to his chest. His lips trailed up, finding all the spots again that he learnt were the most sensitive earlier in the evening, teasing, nibbling, ravishing until Lazard was moaning and his hips bucking against Genesis' thigh.

"Doesn't that feel good?" he purred against the director's dry lips, pulling away when they chased after his, only granting a slow flick of his tongue against the lower lip that bore indents from perfect teeth. "I can make it so much better." The small whimper Lazard produced as he curled his fingers around the blond's erection was the only answer he needed.

He coated his fingers with the lubricant with quick, practiced moves, his other hand continuing to push Lazard closer to the brink of ecstasy relentlessly, ignoring the small, breathy noises the man made. A side glance at Sephiroth, gloriously naked, pupils dilated and hand slowly moving over his flushed cock was affirmation enough, and Genesis pressed his lips against Lazard's, swallowing his sound of protest as he circled then pressed a finger inside.

"Fuck," Lazard broke the kiss, anything else he might have wanted to say gone in a series of staccato gasps as Genesis pressed down on his prostate. Hard. His fingers dictated a tight rythm, not too fast but still a far cry from lazy.

"Didn't I say I'll make it good?" plush lips alighted gently at the corner of his lips, Genesis' whisper shuddering through him with the waves of pleasure that washed him closer and closer to the edge.

"Bastard," Lazard panted, neck flexing at a particularly well-aimed thrust.

"We can always stop if you want, though..."

There was a smirk somewhere in there, not that Lazard cared.

"You stop now, and Tseng will never have to worry about a personal vendetta. Ever again," he slid his hand into those lucious cinnamon tresses, pulling the redhead into another hard, biting kiss. However, Genesis was not that keen on being obedient.

"How about we have a little... fun?" he asked with a smile that was almost coy, raising alarms in Lazard's head that went entirely unheeded though.

Smile turning both mischievous and victorious, Genesis reached below the bed and pulled out a small plastic container. Lazard knew what it was before he saw the vibrator, lips suddenly turning dry.

"I'm not sure if that is a good idea," he tried to keep his voice commanding, composed, but he couldn't deny his interest was piqued. Talk about initiatives.

Genesis just acted as if he didn't even hear him, ripping the packaging of a condom open with his teeth and pulling it over the toy. "Trust me precious, they are hell to clean otherwise," he explained casually with a small wink at Lazard's curious glance, and Sephiroth couldn't help but chuckle at the blush that suddenly spread across the blond's pale cheeks and ears.

Genesis made a show of violating his mouth with the toy, curling his tongue around it lasciviously before coating it with lubricant and tossing the bottle at Sephiroth with dark mischief in his eyes. "I hope you were serious, because I like to be filled on both ends..."

The things that husky voice was doing to his pulse, and Sephiroth was more than willing to comply. Moving behind Genesis he slicked his fingers hastily, eyes glued to the enthralling image of the redhead parting Lazard's buttocks and leaning down to prepare him for the toy.

The blond's hips bucked at the first, tentative touch of that devilish tongue, producing more and more of the small, breathy sounds with each movement that his silver haired lover adored so much as Genesis pushed one lubricated finger in, soon to be replaced by slick, sleek muscle.

Lazard didn't even have the time or will to complain when Genesis pulled back with a moan of his own, pushing back instinctively against Sephiroth's teasing fingers slipping into the cleft of his ass. The vibrator was already at his entrance, slowly pushing in at the same time as his cock was expertly taken in to the hilt and wrapped in the delicious heat of Genesis' mouth, and if the sudden moan around him that sent jolts of pleasure up Lazard's spine was any indication, Sephiroth wasn't idle either.

Genesis was giving him time to adjust to the feeling of being filled like he haven't been for a very long time, a few slow, languid bobs of that red head making sure to provide more than enough pleasurable distraction. He tangled his fingers in those fiery tresses just to have them slip away as Genesis raised his head with a small sound of frustration.

"Do I look like porcelain to you?" Genesis shot an irritated glance backward, his tone just light enough not to be offensive. "Let me assure you, am not one to bruise easily..." that rich, beguiling voice dissolved into a shuddering moan as Sephiroth's fingers clamped down on his prostate.

"Don't hold back, then," the man purred into his ear, his free hand sliding over Genesis' shoulder, up the throat, forcing the head back with its ascent as lips nibbled over the sensitive shell of the redhead's ear, tongue playing with the lone silver earring, drawing low, deep sounds from parted lips.

As pleasing as it was though, Sephiroth wasn't interested in teasing games anymore. With a smirk playing on his lips he pushed Genesis back down. Their little toy wanted to play rough, and Sephiroth was more than eager to assert some of his dominance that he got to display in encounters like this. Raking his nails down that perfect, smooth back, he savoured the surprised hiss, the instinctual twist of the body that dragged silky skin against his thighs.

With a sharp intake of breath he steadied those narrow hips, the sight of Lazard's aristocratic face contorting in blissful agony as Genesis hollowed his cheeks again and the quiet buzz of the vibrator started, his hips bucking and mouth spilling uncharacteristical obscenities almost causing him to lose it right then and there, but his iron will reigned his body in, even if only temporarily.

In a smooth movement he sheathed himself inside Genesis' lithe body, the thrust pushing the redhead further down and wringing a deep moan from Lazard. His hips started a rough, steady rythm, trying hard not to let his eyes roll back into his head, reluctant to miss the divine sight of his usually dominant lover falling so thoroughly for the charms of a scarlet vixen, ripped of his control.

Grey eyes met green and Lazard felt his lips go dry at the lusty fire in those emerald depths. It was too much, the hot, slick mouth, the cleverly manipulated toy rubbing his prostate and the devouring gaze of his lover, and the director felt the sweet pressure building in him, ready to explode into white as he writhed on the red sheets, one hand gripping the expensive fabric, the other lost in soft auburn tresses.

He finally broke eye contact to look at Genesis, his grip tightening and lips parting to warn him just how close he was, but it seemed the redhead knew it without words, pulling back immediately. Lazard groaned at the loss of that hot mouth, eyes flashing open as he felt Genesis wrapping his fingers around his saliva-slicked cock instead, his expression far too content, far too wicked.

He needed a moment to realise what Genesis was doing, but when it finally registered it was the final straw, heat shooting through his body. His head swam with the incredible hotness of the mere thought, grey eyes wide and dark, fighting to stay open not to miss the sight as he came over that beautiful face and swollen red lips.

Genesis kept on stroking him until he was completely spent, releasing a loud gasp at a particularly hard thrust from Sephiroth whose fingers dug into his hips like velvet wrapped iron restraints, movements growing sharper, faster, more frenzied as the silver executive neared his own orgasm.

The redhead eased the vibrator out of Lazard's body and the blond's fingers out of his hair then pushed himself up til his back was flush against Sephiroth's chest and he could wrap his arms around the man's neck. It was a bit awkward but he was flexible enough, and it allowed him to dig into that frosty mane and pull the other in for a heated, messy meeting of lips.

He moaned as Sephiroth released his hold, sneaking an arm around his waist and anchoring Genesis to his body, his other hand forming a tight fist around the redhead's neglected member, movements matching those of his hips, rough, urgent. His breaths were hot and cold on Genesis' damp skin, swallowing more sounds coaxed from his defiant throat. Then Sephiroth broke the kiss, licking away at the cooling mess of his lover still clinging to soft, enticingly flushed skin.

Genesis tried to outlast the other, but Sephiroth was having none of it, movements turning more forceful, demanding, and with a final cry, Genesis stumbled over the edge, his muscles tightening as the world was momentarily sheathed out in white-hot bliss, pulling Sephiroth with him into the sweet void.

They shuddered against each other as they rode out the waves of their orgasm, slumping in a boneless heap on the red sheets, bodies demanding rest. By the Goddess he hadn't had a fuck like that since forever. However, the routine was always the same. Gather the senses, even out the breath, clean up and leave, no need for any late awkwardness, guilt or regret. It was essential, having the tact to leave quietly and without fuss, to leave customers with the image of a beautiful creature of the night instead of a man with a sleep-wrinkled face and tousled hair, wrapped in the scent of paid passion.

Somewhere between finding the will to move and trying to disentangle himself from Sephiroth's hold, Genesis was vaguely aware that Lazard had left the bed, but it still came as a surprise when the man returned with a wet towel, obviously cleaned up and planning to do the same for them.

He tried to protest, to pull himself together and get up. But with Sephiroth's body warming him so nicely from behind, one of those strong arms thrown possessively around his waist and Lazard's hand on his chest, gently restraining, Genesis found his eyes slowly drifting shut.

---

The club was crowded, nothing like on the quiet night they had spent here not a week ago. Lazard pushed through the crowd, not even bothering to wait for his bodyguard who had to stop at the entrance to get rid of the huge black umbrella warranted by the light spray of rain outside before it could've dripped onto the expensive carpet.

He preferred to do this alone anyway.

He slipped past a small group discussing the recent fluctuation of the stock market, looking for a splash of red amongst the dark suits and finally managing to locate him by the sweet, seductive laughter frizzling through the air like the smoke of cherry cigarettes.

He turned his head towards the sound and spotted the flaming red hair and the slender body reclining gracefully on one of the white sofas, leaning to someone else. Lazard needed a moment to recognise Hollander, board director and head of the science department in the sloshed man next to Genesis, the corner of his lips twisting in distaste.

"Good evening, professor. I need to exchange a few words with your companion, if you'll excuse us," looking down coolly and with all his dignity, he could see the azure eyes look back up at him with a smirk flashing through their blue and barely touching the full lips before Genesis shook Hollander's hand off his shoulder and rose to follow him.

Lazard chose to lead him to a small vacant table in the nearest corner shadowed by some sort of an exotic plotted plant, the dim lights even dimmer here and the other guests far enough to give it the desired seclusion for their talk. He offered a seat with a small gesture, and Genesis took it with a mixed expression of amusement and expectancy, one thin eyebrow lifted slightly in silent inquiry.

Lazard took a moment to study him from across the table before speaking up. "How about excusing yourself for the night?"

"Jealous?" the eyebrow travelled a little higher, amusement oh so clear in that deep voice like a black velvet blindfold.

Lazard replied with his own eyebrow raise, trying hard to make it as condescending as possible. And he was good at it. A little silence settled over them before Genesis leaned back comfortably in his chair, crossing one leg over the other and reaching for a cigarette. The blond waited patiently until he lit it and took the first deep inhale of the sweet scented smoke.

"Let's suppose I do. What happens then, Lazard?"

"Two hundred thousand gil."

He felt satisfaction spreading in his chest at the surprise on Genesis' face the other couldn't hide quick enough. He watched as the redhead wrapped his lips around the end of his cigarette again, letting the slim stick violate them. A flood of memories, and Lazard crossed his legs too, though he suspected that the reason behind his and Genesis' earlier action was quite different.

Surprisingly, it wasn’t only his services they missed, though he wasn’t reluctant to admit that the sex was fantastic. Coming back for more was proof enough of that – they never involved the same person twice before.

Those blue eyes were on him the entire time, calculating but otherwise unreadable, then the cigarette was removed, followed by a blow of thick smoke.

Lazard could have tasted it on his tongue if he wanted to.

Cherries.

"Whom do I have to kill for it?"

"Necrophilia has never been on my list of favoured past time activities," Lazard replied dryly. That pulled a small smile out of Genesis, a bedazzling, genuine little smile, gone as fast as it appeared. Something Sephiroth had to see too, Lazard quickly decided.

"For how long?" he reached out and tapped the ash from his cigarette with the sleek grace of practice, the palm upwards, facing the ceiling, Lazard noted absently.

"A month. It should cover the expenses of giving up your... clientele," he added lightly.

"Oh, there are always some rules," Genesis chuckled mirthlessly, eyes suddenly harder than diamonds. "How do I know you are not playing me?

"Check your account," Lazard touched his fingertips together lightly.

Genesis complied, pulling out his cell phone and pressing a few buttons, eyes scanning over the data displayed on the screen, nodding slightly at what he saw. Then he pressed more buttons in rapid succession, dialling. It was picked up immediately after the first ring, and the redhead didn't waste any time on social pleasantries. "Lin, please cancel all my appointments."

"You are taking a break again, Genesis?" came the voice from the other end, the melodic voice with a tint of Wutai accent displaying disapproval. Genesis didn't answer, eyes locked with Lazard's greys and smirk slowly widening.

"You don't mean...," the voice was practically squeaking now, much to his amusement. "That you... all of them?"

"Just the ones for this month," Genesis blew out another puff of smoke, snapping the phone shut before there could've been any answer.

Lazard arched an eyebrow, gloved fingertips tapping on the arm of the chair absently. "Am I meant to feel offended now?"

"I'm not selling my soul, don't you forget that."

"I don't remember asking you for it."

"Until the first better offer," Genesis took a drag of his cigarette again, and Lazard felt his own lips spread into a rather wicked smile. There will be no better offers, and they both knew it. He swallowed a chuckle and nodded, pushing his glasses up his nose.

"So, shall we?" he gestured vaguely towards the front door, watching as those full lips slowly spread into a smile, blue eyes getting an all too familiar brightness to them under the black lace of the lashes.

"What about Sephiroth?"

"He's waiting in the car."

"I guess," Genesis flicked a bothersome strand of copper hair out of his face, put out the cigarette in the ashtray and rose, smile still lingering, "a proper 'thank you' is in order..."

No matter what Lazard might have thought, it crossed his mind as they stepped out into the inviting night air, when it came down to things they wanted, Rufus and him were not all that different after all.

Not that Genesis minded.

Opiate Red Night, Part 1

2009-09-24T22:49:03Z

Title: Opiate Red Night (1/2)
Pairing: Lazard/Sephiroth/Genesis, Rufus/Tseng, mentions of others
Rating: NC-17
Beta: white_jenna
Warning: AU, prostitution, threesome, alcohol, food play, facial, oral, asphyxiation, masturbation, rimming, toys, voyeurism. And sex. Lot’s of it.
Disclaimer: I don't own them, they own me.
Summary: Shinra striking a bargain with Wutai calls for celebration. Fortunately, Rufus knows exactly just where to take the party.
Word Count: ~14 000
A/N: Remember all those things I said about Lazard/Genesis not happening? Well, you try to argue with the sneaky bunny of doom. All white_jenna's fault, to whom this story is dedicated with much love. Oh, and that part about Loveless… it just happened. Written mostly to the song Revelation 22:20 by Puscifer which I had on endless repeat.

---

The club was an undeniably elite place. Soft, deep blue carpet, imported Wutai brocade on the walls and white leather sofas that shone with an inviting pearly glow in the dim lights, promising luxorious comfort. Polished wooden sufaces glinted here and there, the small tables between chairs and settees, and the counter of the bar.

Yes, this club was meant to satisfy even the most exquisite of tastes, Lazard noted as a young man helped him take his coat off, his own personal butler for the evening, the service included in the price, of course. Every tiny detail from the paintings on the wall to the crystal ashtrays spoke about a designer who knew that true elegance lay in simplicity.

No wonder Rufus suggested this place. He glanced at his brother only to be met by a pair of smug pale blue eyes smiling at him. Then the Vice President turned his back on him, exchanging a few words with the maitre d', a tall, sinewy, elderly man who seemed to be all too keen on bending backwards just to cater to their every whim.

It wasn't really surprising in light of the fact that Rufus was the heir to the greatest company that ever existed on the planet and Lazard was a director of the very same company. It probably just added to the effect that they weren't alone. He only hoped that the personnel here were just as discreet as Rufus promised them to be.

He looked up as he felt Sephiroth step beside him. The two shared a lazy, barely there smirk before the silver haired representative brushed past him, walking with the sway of something distinctly dangerous and feline, following Rufus, Tseng, and the maitre d' to their table.

Lazard has never been more glad that he managed to convince his lover to lose the black leathers they both loved him wearing, though for slightly different reasons. Sephiroth looked stunning in his black suit with a pale grey shirt, collar stylishly high and the fabric revealing just enough of his chest to make heads turn. Try as he might, the tie was out of the question, not that he really minded. The absence of the long black coat granting him with a lovely view of Sephiroth's ass as he followed him to the table was just an added bonus.

"What may I serve you with?" the maitre’d inquired politely.

"Two bottles of your finest red wine," Rufus cast a sideway glance at Tseng with a smallest of smiles, "and a pot of white tea."

"And a bottle of absinthe verde," Lazard added, slipping between Tseng and Sephiroth on the huge U-shaped couch that could've easily accomodated two more people, three if they were from the bony end of the spectrum.

It didn't take much time for the maitre d' to come back, serving them himself, which, from the looks they got, was probably a highly unusual event in the establishment. Lazard couldn't deny feeling a touch of smug pride at that.

"To the new contract!" Rufus raised his wine glass once the elderly man retreated, and they all echoed the sentence heartfeltly. After all, it was a whole year's hard work that got its reward earlier that day. Lazard took a sip of his wine and sighed in delight at the light and fruity tase. It was a trully excellent vintage indeed. He shifted a little to discreetly wrap an arm around Sephiroth's waist before taking another sip.

"Now just let's hope that Wutai keeps up its end of the bargain."

"Oh, they will, no doubt about that," Tseng smirked, and Lazard decided it was better not knowing what thoughts went through the man's head.

"With this victory, the Shinra Electric Power Company has trully gone global. Who would've though that only five years ago?" Sephiroth dripped some water on the sugar cube that had been placed on the absinthe spoon with the exact same care and precision that characterised everything the man did.

"Dismissing some minor interferences, the PR campaign has already been launched in preparation of your visit to the capital. If that goes well, we have nothing to worry about," Tseng commented indifferently. Lazard had already learned that there were no public appearances that were considered off duty by Tseng, even if a whole army of Turks was stationed around the building.

"Can't say I'm very keen on that trip," Lazard swirled the wine in his glass. "Though, stopping at Costa del Sol on the way back sounds like a very tempting idea," he looked up at his lover with a small smile that implied so much one should have been both deaf and blind not to know what the true implication of his words was.

Sephiroth hummed his agreement; those green cat eyes however, were fixed on something else in the far corner of the room, which, upon following that gaze turned out to be two young men. They had just arrived and were getting rid of their coats, and in the black haired one, to his surprise, Lazard recognised his own secretary.

He could also instantly tell that Zachary Fair was not the one who had piqued Sephiroth's interest, the two of them working closely together for more than seven years now. The other... sometimes it was a royal annoyance that his lover could see so much better in the semi-darkness.

Upon a few steps into the light, however, he could see the reason why Sephiroth's attention was diverted and remained that way. Said reason being a tall, slender redhead in a stylish red suit jacket with tight black pants, a fitting black shirt and knee high boots. Deep blue eyes glinted in the lamplight, gaze sharp enough to cut diamonds with in a most beautifully androgenious face befitting of angels, the long, single silver earring glinting through a veil of copper tresses. An unmistakeable symbol and an outright invitation.

He glanced at Sephiroth who returned his gaze, the very same thoughts running through their minds. Bringing someone home for the night with them was a guilty pleasure they haven't indulged themselves in lately, the negotiations taking up too much time and energy. But now, that everything was out of the way... The mutual agreement was reached within a second of emerald green meeting steel grey, Lazard nodding his silent approval.

"Oh, look, Tseng!" Rufus' lips twisted into a wicked sort of smile. "My, my, if it's not our salacious little kitten out on the hunt. An excellent choice, brother. If you are not afraid of claws, that is."

"You know him?"

"Quite... closely, actually," Rufus hid his smirk behind his glass.

"Do I even want to know?" Lazard arched an eyebrow questioningly, and Rufus chuckled.

"I shall spare your innocent ears the details. Antoine!"

The maitre d' was standing by their table practically before the last syllable left Rufus' mouth, waiting for his order, whatever that may be. Lazard had the feeling that if Rufus would've asked the man to paint the sky for him, the answer wouldn't have been an incredulous "what?" but rather a polite "what color did you have in mind, sir?"

Maybe he just spent too much time around Turks.

"Antoine, please, bring a glass of Banora Gold Cider to the corner table. Light Premium, on the rocks, two slices of apple and one slice of lemon. Oh, and please let him know it's from me," he added with a smile that, Lazard noted, was devoid of warmth, but not a certain amount of twisted mischief.

He also noted that the man (Antoine, was it?), didn't ask which one of the two men was to receive the invitation, but walked up straight to the redhead. Placing the glass of pale yellow liquid in front of him, he gestured towards their table while exchanging a few words with the owner of the most stunning pair of legs Lazard has ever seen, amongst other things.

Considering the company he was currently in, that was quite saying something.

The redhead glanced at them, lips spreading into a lazy smile, and Lazard felt found out when their eyes met, but he refused to look away. He watched as the man rose, excused himself from his companion, glass in hand, approached their table with a graceful gait worthy of a dancer.

He was taken aback at the voice greeting them though, not expecting the deep, sinuously smooth tone that seemed to be contradicting and complimenting the redhead's appearance at the same time. It was thick, rich and perfect like dark chocolate on his tongue with a seductive undertone of fresh cream.

Rufus shifted on the couch, making some more room in silent invitation, the gesture obviously not lost on the redhead as he sat down and flashing a brilliant smile, crossed one leg over the other almost casually. Almost.

"Long time no see, Rufus," he drawled leisurely, taking a sip of his drink. "Tseng."

"Lazard, Sephiroth, please allow me to introduce you the sacred whore of our Babylon," Rufus took hold of the redhead's free hand, breathing a kiss on the tip of his fingers. "The irresistible Jezebel of Midgar, Genesis Rhapsodos.

"Oh, just spare the compliments, Rufus," they looked at each other smiling predatorily, azure eyes on pale blue ones, looking every bit like they were sharing something that didn't belong in public places. Lazard couldn't help but wonder, knowing Tseng for quite some time now as well as having the privilage to see the man in action, why Genesis' bones were still intact.

"Is that your real name?" was what he found himself asking instead.

"My mother was rather fond of ancient literature," those blue eyes came to rest on him once they separated from Rufus' a little reluctantly, as if Lazard was intruding on something that wasn't his business. He started seeing why his brother would warn him about this man's claws. "That's why Rufus has entirely too much pleasure teasing me like that."

Suddenly, the room just seemed a good few degrees hotter with those words purred past full lips that, Lazard was convinced, would be a lovely sight being wrapped around something other than just words. He only nodded, as though absentmindedly, and Genesis turned his attention back to Rufus.

"What do I owe the pleasure after all this time? You are not breaking up, are you?" he cast a vaguely amused glance at Rufus and Tseng, and had he been drinking, Lazard was sure he would've choked on it. "Not that I wouldn't mind getting my best customers back, but I would hate to see all my efforts go to waste."

Choking was probably putting it lightly.

"You mean... they... you three...?"

"Not at once, regretfully," Genesis chuckled, expression nothing short of devious. "But you could say that their involvement with me was pretty decisive. That, and the fact that Rufus talks in his sleep."

"But...," he couldn't help but turn his eyes from one man to the other in sheer astonishment, and obviously, they were having a good time watching it. Even Tseng's lips curved into a ghost of a smile.

"I might have lost two of my clients, but I would say having a Shinra in my debt was worth it," Genesis smirked behind his glass of cider, taking one of the apple slices from it and biting it in half with a small crunch of the ripe fruit under perfectly even white teeth.

"So you just gave them up," he still couldn't quite believe it. They were talking about Rufus Shinra, richest man on the planet after all, and his left hand man.

"I'm not really one for sharing," Rufus shrugged, bringing his glass to his lips again.

"Good thing you are the only one who took after Augustus in that sense," came the rather cutting reply from Lazard, and Rufus actually had the decency to look apologetic.

"You can imagine no traits from Father make me proud," he said simply, and the ice melted from Lazard's eyes.

The little silence was broken by a chuckle coming from Genesis, turning all eyes on him.

"Just as I suspected," he reached into his pocket, sharp, clever eyes travelling from Rufus to Lazard as he pulled out a small silver cigarette case. "There was no way this resemblance was coincidental. So, Daddy failed as the crown of fathers in more ways than one."

"Watch your mouth, Genesis," Rufus hissed coldly, eyes narrowing to two thin lines, the stare deadly enough to shut anyone up to hell and back.

"Or what?" the redhead returned his gaze steadily, fingers now searching for the lighter. "You might pay me, Rufus, but I'm not your employee."

"True enough," the pale blond suddenly purred, holding out his index finger and sliding it down Genesis' jaw line, hooking one finger under the defiant chin. His thumb caressing soft skin, he tilted the redhead's face so that if they took a breath deep enough, their lips would've surely met in a kiss. "You are lucky that you are more valuable to me alive than dead. Don't make me change my mind."

"Your lover is watching, Rufus," the redhead purred back, eyes matching the pale blue ones in cold malice they were looking into, lush lips curving into the ever so present smirk.

Lazard felt Sephiroth shift beside him and looked up, just to return his eyes to the scene with a heady mixture of excitement flooding him accompanied by slight worry. The silver haired man's eyes were still devouring Genesis hungrily, but knowing him as well as he did, Lazard could tell there was something else there too.

He could always tell when Sephiroth wanted something, and when he made up his mind to get it.

He cleared his throat and the parties still engaged in the staring contest that could chill anyone lesser to the marrow of their bones slowly pulled away, returning to their previous positions and pretending nothing had happened.

"How about your family? Aren't they concerned about your... profession?" he turned to the redhead with a polite smile.

Well, clearly, it was the wrong thing to ask. Those deep blue eyes lit up with an infernal fire in a way that Lazard half-expected the air to start flickering around Genesis. But it was gone in a matter of seconds. The redhead put a cigarette between his lips and lit it, head falling back with the first long drag of smoke, baring his long, elegant neck.

"My friend, the fates are cruel, there are no dreams, no honour remains."

"Loveless," Lazard noted with mild surprise, finally tearing his eyes away from the smooth expanse of pale skin so beautifully on display.

"According to Leon Piani, its most impressive parts are the Mideel alexandrines of the Third Act," Sephiroth lifted his glass to his lips, downing the strong drink without wincing, eyes all the while challanging Genesis for an answer.

He didn't have to wait long.

"Last time I checked, the Third Act was written in Cetran stanzas and Leon Piani said he will face a death squad sooner than to read something that refuted his claims about the evolution of literature," Genesis placed the remaining apple slice into his mouth, tongue flicking against the underside in a highly suggestive manner.

"Beauty and wit, such a rare combination," Sephiroth purred, sliding next to Genesis on the couch and capturing half of the fruit between his own teeth, working his mouth around it with small sucking bites before he finally pulled away with a victorious smile and a mouthful of Banora White

They both swallowed, and Lazard couldn't help it but to loosen his tie as he watched wet tongues sneaking past lips, one pair as familiar as the other was not, lapping up the cider and juice that escaped their mouths. Couldn't help but notice the way their eyes were smirking at the other, daring, devouring.

"Where I come from, this would be called cheating," Genesis tilted his head to the side, leaning closer to Sephiroth and running a finger down the edge of the grey shirt's collar, never breaking eye contact. No one so far could stand to look the silver haired man in the eye for so long, and the answer was in the way his pupils widened.

"Where I come from, we call it sharing," the smirk grew more pronounced.

"I like the sound of that," slender fingers played feather light with smooth material, just a breath away from skin. "Perhaps you could teach me more about it."

"Ripples form on the water's surface. The wandering soul knows no rest," Sephiroth purred, but it was Genesis who looked like a cat rubbed behind the ears.

"Shall I take that as a yes?"

"Would you like to?" Sephiroth let his own fingers draw small circles on Genesis' thighs under the tabletop, but still far too visibly for Lazard's liking, who cleared his throat and glanced around somewhat suspiciously.

"No need to be edgy," Genesis craned his head lazily to look at him while his body leaned shamelessly into Sephiroth's touch, "I could give you a blowjob under the table and no one would give a damn," he took a sip of his drink, blue eyes above the rim of the glass never leaving those of Lazard. "Wouldn't be the first time," he added with a wink, a smirk playing across his lips as Lazard suddenly faced some difficulties swallowing his wine.

Genesis leaned forward, across the table, smirk still firmly in place. "Or shall I put on a frilly skirt with knee-high socks and call you Daddy?"

"How about some thigh high leather boots and a gag in that pretty mouth of yours?" no, he wasn't falling for the same trick again.

"If you pay me enough, you can put me on a leash and walk me through the Upper Plate's High End district," Genesis offered with something that could've passed for a grin.

"Naked?" Sephiroth asked, deciding that the elegant jaw line in such convenient proximity was worth a closer look.

"I doubt you could afford that one," Genesis raised an eyebrow with mocking sweetness, glancing from only the corner of his eyes at the silver head looming so close to his neck he could feel the breath from Sephiroth's nose tickle his skin.

"Maybe, if we too threw in what we have," Rufus chuckled from somewhere in the back of his throat, standing up. "But I guess it's time for us to leave. They are my guests for the night, I trust you to take good care of them, Genesis."

"They are in the best hands, Rufus, and you know that. Just like the number of my bank account."

Adjusting his white coat, Rufus put his left hand on the redhead's shoulder, leaning in to whisper in his ear. "Why do I have the feeling that I can't expect you to thank me?"

"Because you are such a smart boy," Genesis turned his head, hooked a finger around the knot of Rufus' tie and pulled him into a kiss, lips barely touching lips before he let go and flashed a smile at Tseng. "No bad blood, right, gorgeous?"

"Oh, rest assured, if there will be, you won't have to ask," the curve of Tseng's lips was positively wicked, brown eyes chilling cold. "Good evening, gentlemen."

Neither Rufus nor Tseng took the effort to shake hands and say goodbye, a nod of their heads and they were already on their way, knowing that they didn't have to play the big social game with the other three if they didn't want to. It would've been just a waste of time, and Rufus hated wasting perfectly good resources. Especially when the night was still rather young and the sweetness of victory still present in every heartbeat.

"Shall we take this somewhere more private?" Sephiroth's fingers idly toyed with Genesis' single silver earring.

The redhead made a vague gesture with his left hand in which he expertly held both his glass and his cigarette for quite some time now, swallowing a chuckle. "In any particular hurry? Trust me, when I said you were in the best hands, I meant it," he looked up at the the silver haired man from under his long lashes, somehow managing to slide his left knee over Sephiroth's thigh and yet maintaining an image of decency. Obviously, the mile long tablecloths were there for a reason.

And the bastard didn't even bat an eyelash when the maitre d' appeared again to take away the empty glasses Rufus and Tseng left behind. "Antoine, I'm in the mood for something sweet."

"I would recommend créme brulée, the chef has outdone himself with it today," Lazard noted how stiff the elderly man's posture seemed all of a sudden.

"Then créme brulée it is," Genesis smiled, but not at the maitre d'.

"He doesn't seem to be exactly fond of you," the blond remarked once the waiter departed.

"Antoine is an old-fashioned gentleman who believes that the likes of me should be burned at the stake," Genesis chuckled, pulling away from Sephiroth to put out his cigarette in the ashtray. The smoke reached Lazard's nostrils once again, the bitterness of tobacco and the sweetness of cherry. Interestingly, there was nothing feminine to it when associated with Genesis.

"Why aren't you joining us? There's plenty of space on this side of the table too," Sephiroth turned his eyes to his lover, a question, a dare, an invitation.

Lazard shrugged his shoulder, a refined gesture. "If you so wish..."

He slipped next to Genesis on the white leather, fingers feathering over the arm of the redhead, mapping out his hand and ending up caressing the silky soft skin of the wrist just above the pulse point that had Genesis producing a sound halfway between a sigh and a moan. He could feel the suppleness of the skin, pale, smooth perfection, the scent of cider and brown sugar and cinnamon and vanilla, sweet and intoxicating. This man, this whore was nothing like he had ever met before, beauty of pure angels but with a devil smiling through those deepest blue eyes. He couldn't wait to see what would happen when the devil finally gained free reign

"So you bottom, Genesis?" Sephiroth leaned closer conspiratorially, silver locks sliding forward from behind his shoulders to frame his face, his smooth smirk mirrored on Genesis' lips as the redhead closed the distance between them just enough to still be able to lock his eyes with those predatory green ones.

"Make me," and it was definitely a dare there in those words, in that purring tone, narrowing Sephiroth's eyes and curving the corner of his lips even more before the arrival of the waiter shattered the moment and they had to pull away.

"I was almost hoping you would say no. That would be the loveliest blackmail material in the company," Sephiroth chuckled, fingers ghosting down the soft skin of Genesis' neck as the dessert had been placed on the table, the top flaming and the sugar turning crispy with the heat.

It was lovely, the way fire light played on those copper tresses.

"However," Sephiroth went on, voice dropping down to a whisper, "I think I'll love to fuck you."

"What makes you so sure of yourself?" Genesis asked, tilting his head. The tone was sinful but the amused curiosity sincere, and Lazard watched over the redhead's shoulder as Sephiroth only smiled and reached for the bowl on the table, pulling it into his lap the moment the flames were out. With his other hand he fetched the small dessert spoon and the metal crushed through the hard sugar top with a delicious crunch, disappearing into the cream and coming back with a spoonful of pure seduction.

"Don't think you can sweep me off my feet that easily," Genesis murmured, lips opening up eagerly for the treat despite the words, a hum of pleasure resonating deep inside his body, head tilted back and eyes closed as he sucked the spoon clean. More for show than anything else, but Lazard couldn't really care with a hand on his thigh and that slender neck so close to his lips and wantonly on display, swallowing. Especially when that hand squeezed his muscle during savouring the next mouthful of cream, and settled on gentle kneading. By the time it travelled to his inner thigh, Lazard's breath was matching theirs in heaviness. Right until Sephiroth decided to taste the dessert himself.

Then it hitched.

The kiss was slow, sensous and thorough, tasting and exploring something enticingly new, something fleeting. Something that, for this night only, was theirs for the taking, theirs to be defiled at whim and be used as they wished. It was part of the high they got out of these encounters, and the spark of defiance in Genesis was only making it sweeter, filling Lazard with anticipation.

He shifted, pressing his chest into Genesis' back for support and guided the hand the redhead had been leaning on from his thigh to the growing bulge at the front of his pants. Those slender fingers feathered over the heat and hardness there, then started to rub up and down slowly that had Lazard's eyes fall closed before he resumed watching as the two of them kissed, small nips, pecks, licks following each other as both men refused to break it first.

In the end, it was Sephiroth who pulled away, picking up the strawberry from the fruit decoration. Gathering a bit of the sweet cream on the tip he offered it to Genesis with a smirk, that, Lazard had no doubt, was mirrored on that beautiful face.

He felt almost sorry for not being able to see as Genesis' teeth and lips closed around it, but then he noticed the mirror running from the counter to the door that lead to the staff area and the kitchens. Besides, the redhead was still stroking him lazily, so he wasn't about to complain. Or if he was, it would be about the dissatisfactory speed of consuming that small bowl of dessert. He was glad that his lover had his fun of breaching social norms in semi-private areas, but his patience was wearing thinner with each passing second and each movement of that hand between his legs.

Seeing what would've passed for the re-enacting of the original sin of man with a strawberry replacing the mythological apple didn't help one bit.

"Mmm, you and your brother certainly do share some traits. Except, he liked to watch himself in the mirror, not me," came the low purr, and he found Genesis' blues staring back at him through the mirror, lips slightly parted and oh so perfectly red and kiss swollen.

That was it. He sneaked an arm around the redhead's waist and leaned closer until his chin brushed against fabric. "I'm not my brother... and I really want to see you on your knees before me."

"Oh, well then...," Genesis drawled lazily with a smirk, while he reached out and scoped up some of the remaining cream on his index finger, letting Sephiroth polish up the rest. Then he brought that finger between the two of them, and just when Lazard though the redhead will offer it to him, Genesis took it into his mouth, sliding his lips all the way down, then slowly up, releasing the slender digit with a last lick at the tip. "Ready?"

For a moment, it seemed Lazard won't answer him, or maybe he was just about to say something absolutely obscene and indecent, making the corners of Genesis' lips twitch. And seemingly, that was all it took for those words to remain unspoken. A cool, cruel sort of smile appeared on Lazard's face as he leaned in and pushed the lithe redhead into Sephiroth's chest, lips covering lips with bruising force, claiming, demanding, punishing. He could feel Genesis' chuckle against his mouth, but he kept pressing, moving his jaw relentlessly, prying those lips apart with his tongue to delve inside the delicious heat of that wicked mouth. He went on tasting, exploring, pulling the lush lower lip between his teeth and biting until a low moan resonated in the throat under his fingers. Only then did he pull away, his thumb wiping a little bit of saliva from the corner of Genesis' lips that escaped during their little exchange.

"I'll take that as a yes," the redhead grinned, sliding out of Sephiroth's half-embrace and standing up.

"I'll call the car park," the silver representative offered, already pulling out his cell phone, but Genesis' fingers lightly touching his wrist stopped him.

"That won't be necessary," he shook his head slightly, copper hair sliding to obscure his blue eyes with the movement, making the younger man want to reach up and brush the locks out of his face. "I have a suite upstairs. Just follow me."

---

"Any other rules we should be made aware of?" Lazard asked somewhat short of breath once they entered the treshold and he noted somewhere in the back of his mind that a little after his back hit the wall of the anteroom the door clicked shut. He relaxed into that knowledge, letting his eyelids fall closed.

"I don't do bondage," the lips pressed to his neck moved. Lazard opened his eyes again when he felt the other shift, just to stare into all too familiar emerald eyes smirking at him over Genesis' shoulder before Sephiroth turned his head to whisper into the redhead's ear, his arms sneaking around the slim waist.

"Such a pity. You'd look so gorgeous spread out helpless and writhing on red sheets."

Lazard sighed at the image, feeling a spark of irritation when the rough nibbling of his neck stopped in favor of speech.

"Not worth finding myself in the back alley with a slit throat, thank you. Besides, I like what I do. Plan on making sure I live until retiring. Retiring well, that is," the redhead purred, tilting his head to look at the silver haired man who captured his chin between his fingers and turned him into a ravishing kiss, his tongue thoroughly exploring the slick heat of his mouth.

"I'm sure Tseng will kill you sooner or later," Lazard chuckled, hands sliding under the red coat and palms rubbing against Genesis' nipples through the shirt to see what kind of a response he could get, and he shivered a little with the moan and the buck of hips he was granted with in return.

"And now, on your knees, beautiful," Sephiroth licked a slow path down Genesis' neck, his hands sliding up the redhead's arms and gently but determinedly pushing down on the lithe shoulders.

With a smirk, Genesis complied, lowering himself to the ground and placing his hands on Lazard's thighs. "So, tell me, how does he like it?" he purred with a malicious glint to his eyes looking up from under long dark lashes as he slid his palms higher. "Tell me how should I please him."

Lazard let his head fall back against the wall with a soft sigh, surprisingly strong hands pinning his hips to the hard surface and warm breath ghosting over his crotch. Assertive, but not forceful and just the right amount filthy, it was perfect. If he could read all his clients this well, no wonder Rufus and Tseng had been regulars. He tied his fingers in that red hair, so soft and silky to the touch, silently urging Genesis on.

"Just make sure you make him moan for me," Sephiroth chuckled darkly, kneeling beside the redhead, divesting him of his jacket. He had already lost his, only the silky grey shirt and the black pants remaining, Genesis noted absently before he reached out to pull Lazard's zipper down and push the white trousers and the underwear down enough to grant him access to skin.

He leaned closer, lustful eyes half-lidded as he reached out with his tongue, touching only with the very tip and licking a small trail down one elegant hipbone. He could feel Sephiroth's fingers ghosting over his chest, mapping out the muscles there, slowly undoing the buttons one by one as he proceeded to tease the blond with butterfly kisses, small nips, scrapes of teeth, kitten licks, feathery touches, but never giving him what he trully wanted.

Oh, he was good at this kind of torture. They asked for it, he will gladly show them just how much.

Lazard bucked his hips, wordlessly begging for more, but he just knew it wouldn't be enough. Sephiroth was clear - and cruel. He wanted moans, and now the charming redhead was doing his damnedest to coax the sounds out of his throat. At this speed, he knew it wouldn't take long...

He loved control, thrived on it, and Sephiroth knew it. The green cat eyes were fixed on him, the look in them one of a hunting tiger, waiting for the smallest of slips. The fact that the man on his knees before him had an absolutely wicked tongue and a criminally talented mouth to go with it wasn't exactly working in his favor either, and Lazard soon found his lower lip between his teeth and his head thrown back against the wall. Hard.

Then that wicked heat was engulfing him, soft, slick flesh rubbing against the underside and there it was, the anticipated little moan ripped from his throat, breathless and low, and Genesis immediately drew back, swirling his tongue around the head while he fondled his balls. Back to building his frustration, to the devilish teasing, but this was it. He wasn't having any of it, gripping tight at the copper locks and pulling without a trace of patience, not caring about Sephiroth's chuckle, about the smug satisfaction in those stunning blues as they looked up at him.

He wanted those pretty lips around him, and he wanted it now.

Fortunately, Genesis seemed to be all too willing to comply, and for a second Lazard was enthralled by the divine sight of his cock spreading those red and swollen lips before his eyes rolled back behind his lids with the delicious heat and tightness that swallowed him slowly, picking up a hard and fast rythm at the urging of his gloved hands.

Genesis smirked around the cock in his mouth. Watching the composed director come undone from his ministrations was giving him a powerful high, made him wish Sephiroth's hands tracing his body would wander lower, just a little... It had been ages since a simple blowjob could get him excited, but clearly, these two were nothing of the ordinary. He knew that from the very beginning, it was like having a sixth sense that came from knowing the ones who came to him all too well after a while. After all, he was the one they confided their secrets in, the ones not even their wives knew about, all their little kinks and the dark side of their persona even they were afraid of.

He was definitely looking forward to seeing where this night would take them.

He could feel the pleasure mounting in the blond, breathing shallow and movements increasingly erratic as he sucked faster, harder, loving the way those hands made his scalp hurt just right with their pulling. Oh, yes, Lazard was close...

"Now swallow like a good little whore."

Sephiroth's purr was silken and dangerous in his ear, a hand cupping his throat with just enough force to cut even more of his air, almost making him choke on the cock in his mouth. If the jerking of Lazard's hips was any indication, he wasn't the only one affected by the sudden tightness, and a second later the blond was crying out and spurting down Genesis' throat. He went through the all too familiar motions as if in a trance, the edge of his vision starting to blur and his mind stunned into momentary stillness even as he was half aware of his own body jerking and his fingers clawing at the leather covering the merciless hand squeezing his throat.

Then all of a sudden he was pulled back, air flooding his lungs in a burning wave and he coughed a little, all too happy to lean back into the strong chest pressing to his back until his sight became clear enough to make out Lazard's form slumped against the wall, trying hard to catch his breath.

Then Sephiroth's tongue was pushing past his bruised lips, stroking Genesis's tongue with his own, searching for the taste of his lover. There was a strength in those arms around him that Genesis wasn't expecting, an easy, confident dominance in the way Sephiroth ravaged his mouth that sent a shiver down his spine, made him push the man away. Or at least try. Even though the lips left his own, the strong hands still stayed holding on to his waist.

"Better warn me next time," he turned his head to look Sephiroth in the eyes with a poisonous glare. "Before I accidentally bite something off."

"Where would be the fun in it, then?" the answering purr was sensous and the accompanying smile positively evil. Genesis couldn't decide if he wanted to punch it right off that arrogantly beautiful face or taste it, see if those lips were still as delicious as a moment ago.

"Good to know you value my assets so," Lazard teased, still somewhat breathlessly from his spot next to the wall. Judging from his posture, he was feeling quite comfortable right where he was, and not intending to move for a while if he could help it.

Genesis' lips curved a little, as smug as it came.

"Well, you had your fun, now it's time I have mine too," he turned around fully, pushing his palm against Sephiroth's chest, and the man laid back, though still supporting himself on his elbows, eyes on Genesis, expectant, superior, his smile from earlier still lingering.

That was it, all that Genesis needed to decide. These two weren't inexperienced young men with shiny futures and attraction to the decadent and forbidden, or elderly shareholders looking for company that could conjure up the illusions they craved. They made a royal prize, and he was determined to make all that power and gorgeousness crawl at his feet, to make them come back for more, always for more.

After all, he was called the irresistible Jezebel of Midgar for a reason.

He leaned in slowly, but the moment Sephiroth's lips opened up to welcome him, he changed direction, landing a peck on the chin, going lower, exploring the neck, so soft, so inviting, so unlike the man himself, filling his nostrils with the faint scent of expensive cologne, light and airy like water. Sephiroth tilted his head back to give him more room, but this wasn't the reaction Genesis was searching for, or at least, not the only one.

He licked at the hollow area between the collar bones, nimble fingers working on getting the other rid of his shirt, letting the silvery material slide down the arms and pool on the ground around the wrists, all the while making sure Lazard had a first row view of everything.

Sephiroth's chest was even more well-formed than it showed through his clothes, and he couldn't resist to run his fingers down the center of it, to feel the smooth hardness, the curves that seemed to slide under his fingertips on their own accord, teasing.

His teeth followed the collar bone, scraping, nibbling upwards roughly, spurred on by the small noises caught in Sephiroth's throat, the way he reached up and pulled that endless mass of beautiful silver hair away like a silk curtain, gathering it all on one side. The way those eyes became half-lidded with pleasure as Genesis licked a finger and played with a nipple. Then he bit down hard at the junction of neck and shoulder, and there it was, that hitch in Sephiroth's breathing, that tiny sound that escaped his lips, one of his hands tying into Genesis' hair.

With a smirk, the redhead pulled away, fully knowing that the shirt was still partially restraining Sephiroth, who was simply forced to let go if he was to walk away with his outfit intact. Flicking his hair back into place, Genesis stood up, letting his own shirt held together by the lowest buttons only slip a little down on one shoulder with the motion.

"Perhaps, we'd better take it to somewhere more comfortable than my anteroom," he purred in a sweetly arsenic tone, turning the corner and disappearing from their sights, only his voice carrying back from the other room. "So, coming or not?"

Lazard and Sephiroth traded smirks.

They both got up, getting their clothes somewhat in order, which in Lazard's case meant zipping up his pants and following their 'host' while Sephiroth stayed back, finally getting rid of his shirt and leaving it neatly folded on top of the small cabinet right next to the door. Only then did he follow his lover, wearing a foreboding smirk on beautifully sculpted lips.

Happy meme thingy

2009-09-23T20:58:44Z

Today we got the results of our first Introduction to IR Theories tests. You could get 30 points alltogether. Only two people in the group made it above 25. I got 29. *flails*

Also, I'm now the happy owner of Realist Tradition in Diplomacy, Handbook of Security Politics and Introduction to Criminology.

Tagged by kabuki_chan

2009-09-22T12:34:13Z

1. Post about something that made you happy today even if it's just a small thing.
2. Do this everyday for eight days without fail.
3. Tag eight (or as many as you want) of your friends to do the same.

Finally managed to catch up with f-list and answering the mail. Got some good news. Oh, and Jenna said she liked the fic I wrote for her. :)

I tag gothicdragon752, chthonic_scion, savior_falling and whoever wants to do this.

Oh my God = Edward

2009-09-19T19:30:05Z

So, my brother went to a sleepover party and took the laptop. And my dad has stuff to do on this one. So what do I do? Right. Watch movies. (So glad I finished the fic yesterday I've been working on since forever, at least I don't feel guilty for procastinating.)

Anyway, I just dropped by to squee a little about the movie I just saw. Primal Fear, 1996, Richard Gere and Edward Norton.

The plot was rather simple but really well-executed, there was suspense and deep emotion in there and it raised many exciting questions for me (but then again, I'm interested in sociology, psychology and law). The music was rather good, the main female character wasn't annoying for a change and there were twists I did not foresee at all.

But what makes me all warm and fuzzy inside is, you guessed right, Norton. God I love that man. This was, in fact, his debut performance, and boy, did he perform. The story is about a hotshot lawyer (Gere) taking up the case of a young altar boy who butchered an archbishop. And there he is, a stuttering, wide-eyed, introverted, simple little abused choir boy. Norton. I mean... fadsgaahsdfhafg.

One can not appreciate Norton's unbelievable talent fully without having seen American Histoy X and Death to Smoochy, one after the other. The best thing is? In Primal Fear you get both for the price of one in a sense, even though the movie itself is nowhere near as good as the other two I mentioned.

But. For his awesome acting in Primal Fear, Norton was nominated for Academy Award for Best Supporting Actor. If you ask me, he damn clearly stole the show. I actually rewatched some scenes of his after I managed to scrape my jaws off the floor. So, if you ask me, Edward Norton IS GOD. Now I have this urge to see him in a movie together with Cillian Murphy... or just simply together. *cough*

Off to watch Katyn now.

I don't have a disappointment icon

2009-09-17T15:56:46Z

For some reason, my previous post doesn't show up on my f-list. If you are interested, hit previous.

Went to see Public Enemies today. Sadly, I must say I'm not impressed.

Music. Half of the emotional effect came from the music that was too loud, badly picked, weird at times and more or less generally unfitting to the scenes. The blackbird song was a good touch, but maybe a bit too sentimental.

Camera. They did a good job, but the lack of dynamics made them focus very closely on people's faces, which made me feel like I was constantly standing too close to someone.

The actors were very good, strong cast, pretty awesome job on all fronts. I adored Johnny Depp especially, he really did an amazing job, and even Bale managed to make his facial muscles work. :P However, even they couldn't help the fact that the characters were seriously underdeveloped. I saw nothing but two dimensional paper cut dolls on screen with the knowledge that something deeper must be there - but only finding the hints because I was actively looking for them.

Take the first arrest for example. When Depp is on the plane, he looks serious, even a bit grim. When he arrives to the airport, he looks pale, a tad shaken, dissheveled. In the car as he sees the crowd that gathered to see him, the people who are waving at him smiling like he is a hero, he straightens, starts smiling to himself, and by the time he meets the reporters, he is a cocky bastard making fun of the authorities. Which is awesome, but it is only there because Depp is such a bloody awesome actor, because no one reflects on it! Generally, no one reflects on anything.

There could have been such amazing dynamic between Depp and Bale, hunter and hunted, they could've added so much depth to their characters. The lack of finer points and details in the movie was strongly added to by the lack of strong dialogue. There was a rather likeable villain and a bit uptight cop - yet that was all there was. The deeper characteristics were hinted at, but it stayed that way throughout the movie. I expected sparks, hell, fireballs flying every direction, I expected tension, conflict. There was just... nothing!

About the plot... there is not much of a plot, surprisingly. Robbery, arrest, escape, robbery, arrest, escape... death. Like we didn't know after the first ten minutes that the gang will die at the end. Really, a bit less dramatically executed shooting and a bit more dialogue wouldn't have hurt. At all.

All in all, I would say this was a movie that was brilliantly done by the director and the cast, but not even that can help the fact that the screenplay itself is total and utter crap. I demand a remake.

New Broadcasting Law in Argentina threatens freedom of media

2009-09-11T22:42:38Z

Taken from the journal of riot_of_flowers

Argentina's president, Cristina Fernández, and Clarín's Media Group have a long personal fight that started when the group said she was being controlled by her husband. Things went worst when they showed Indec, the organization in charge to point out how things are evolving, making up numbers for everything; and also when they showed her buying really expensive jewelry with the country's money.

Things are clear: she wants Clarin to shut the fuck up and has sent a law that will shut up the entire argentinean media. Does it ring you a bell? It might be so considering Chavez did the same god damned thing.

Help us, please, and show the truth before we get silenced up by a stupid immature fight between a media group and the president.

The Government makes a Broadcasting Law to shut up Clarin's Media Group.

BBC NEWS: The Government sends AFIP agents to scare Clarin's media group.
More news (If it doesn't work, type down "Broadcasting Law" at search and it will pop up)

THEY ARE NUTS!!!!

2009-09-04T17:28:48Z

They are the best! They bought me a TICKET! Oh dear God the things these morons do... *squishes them to hell and back* _ice_lady_ and naurring just got me a ticket for the Miyavi concert here in Budapest!!!!!

I can't believe it. I have no words. *is so very touched*

~~Now to figure out how the hell can I ever pay them back...~~

OMG I am going to see Miyavi!!! *flails in circles*

Those Without Sin: Chapter 02 - Name of Your God

2009-09-03T21:48:51Z

02. Name of Your God

---

"You emptied half our fridge on him," Sephiroth says somewhat resignedly. Angeal smiles at him bitterly.

"Would've been whole had the idiot no pride," he answers and Sephiroth lifts an eyebrow. Angeal sighs. "Do you really think he's this thin out of fashion?" he asks and, for the first time, Sephiroth lowers his gaze. Out of shame, perhaps?

"How did you meet?" he asks then and a small smile escapes to Angeal's lips.

"Never would have guessed you to have a heart," the man teases.

"Don't be preposterous," Sephiroth defends, a bit too quickly. "Of course I care. And of course I want to help."

"Well, don't let him smell it," Angeal quickly adds. "Or you won't even see him running."

Sephiroth purses his lips with just enough obvious disgust. "How can he not..."

"What?" Angeal quickly snaps. "Swallow his pride?" He shakes his head, chuckling bitterly. "Oh, Seph... he'd always been independent, but..." He quickly snaps himself out of it, forcing a good natured smile. "Anyway, too late to depress myself now. Good night, my friend." And he's out of the kitchen before Sephiroth even manages to open his mouth, leaves him once again with so many unanswered questions.

---

It's perhaps a week before Sephiroth catches sight of that unmistakable red glory of hair in the dim illumination of the old church. He is sitting in the back alone, and Sephiroth doesn't know what bothers him more, the secrets he knows are there, behind those blue whirlpools or the fact that he had never seen anyone enter the house of the Lord with such a lack of the smallest of reverences.

He can feel that gaze on him, tangible amongst the dozens as he talks about sin and redemption; preaches about the importance of regret and forgiveness.

"For this is something we must not forget," he pauses, carries his gaze around, sees the people there, eyes on him, clutching their wet umbrellas. Tired, plain faces, the lethargy of winter on them, no trace of the Christmas sentiments left. "We must look into our souls and not blame others for the circumstances we are in. For our sins start with us and end with us, and we must trust in the mercy of the Lord to cleanse our spirits instead of sinking deeper into the swamps of our transgressions."

He doesn't like long speeches, doesn't like how he seems unable to approach these people as Angeal does, but then again, he has never been one of them and that makes all the difference it seems.

Somewhere between washing his hands and the Eucharistic prayer does he notice that the redhead already left, and for a moment, he feels an unexplainable tang of disappointment.

---

Like a famined alley cat, Genesis keeps on returning though. An empty cup, waned contents of the fridge and Angeal being exceptionally quiet are the telltale signs of their red stray stopping by.

Sephiroth opens the door to their house just to see a familiar, lithe figure darting out of the living room.

"Just play Aquinas to this ivory tower then, for all I care!" Genesis rages; freezes for a moment as he notices Sephiroth, then rushes past him without a word.

On impulse, he follows. "Genesis..."

"What do you want?" The redhead snaps at him, the furious rhythm of his boots on the pavement never slowing down, but Sephiroth has long legs and no trouble keeping up.

"I... you missed tea," the priest glances at his watch, knowing full well he must be circumspect, cautious with his words. Genesis is such a mercurial creature, and it's not like they can discuss this on the street anyway. "How about we sit down and amend this?"

The look Genesis gives him is nothing short of measuring, suspicious, and he tries to smile, show he means no harm. He is just more than a little bit curious what is going on.

"Fine," Genesis says finally with a haughty toss of his head, makes it seem like he is gracing Sephiroth with his presence, makes the man's smile grow just a tad wider.

---

"I don't wish to pry," Sephiroth says, eyes on the knife. He cuts the apple pie left by Mrs. Weil this morning as her daughter gave birth to the twins during the night. Genesis is looking at it like a starved dog, but he's too proud to say anything. "But if you want to talk..." He puts the first slice on a plate and leaves it close by, then makes sure to make the next one much thicker. He hands it to Genesis and they both pretend they don't know it.

Angeal excused himself mere minutes ago, claiming there was someone waiting for him in the chapel, and Sephiroth is smart enough to ignore his friend's failed attempt at evasion.

"I'm fine," Genesis says, starts eating the cake from the outer side, which earns him a quirked eyebrow from Sephiroth but nothing more.

"You look fine," Sephiroth says, which gets him a victorious look from Genesis. "But that just makes you a very good actor." He seats himself on to their little kitchen table, across from Genesis, taking a bite himself. It's too sweet, in his personal opinion, but still, a nice way to spend the afternoon. The water starts boiling but it's not hot enough for tea yet, so he has a minute or two. "Trust me, from everything I hear on a daily basis, you don't need to hold back due to shyness..."

"I'm gay," Genesis says without even bothering to stop biting. Sephiroth freezes, which amuses him so much.

He shrugs then. "We each have our cross to bear."

Genesis laughs dryly. "You call it a cross?"

"Homosexuality is a sin."

"So is vanity," Genesis mocks, slides two fingers down Sephiroth's front locks in a feather-light caress.

"So strive for neither," Sephiroth offers levelly, pulls away. "Angeal should serve as an excellent example..." Once more, he's interrupted by Genesis, only this time it's his laughter instead of his sinful words.

"And that's it?" the man asks, crosses one leg over the other and places the last bite into his mouth, looks at an empty plate sorrowfully, and Sephiroth uses the fact that the water heater's done to get up together with the empty plate. "Not going to shower me with advice, leaflets of institutions to cure my sinful ways?" Sephiroth doesn't miss the cynicism in that voice, and he reacts to it by placing the full plate in front of Genesis with a bit more power than needed, then he returns to pouring the hot water into the teapot as calmly as nothing happened.

"If you don't wish to save yourself, then who am I to force you?" Sephiroth offers with a bit of good natured humour as he returns with two full cups, steaming with dark liquid.

"Oh, you mean besides a priest, the religious leader of these poor, poor souls?" Genesis asks with enough sarcasm to fill that teapot once again. "And please don't bother pretending you are unfazed."

"Genesis," Sephiroth tries, slowly, warmly, takes another bite of his pie and watches the redhead put three spoons of sugar into his tea. Again, too sweet. Far too sweet. But then again, it describes his character. He's as thick and sticky like honey – it doesn't take a mind reader to see it. "If you wish my help, just ask. Otherwise... enjoy the pie."

There's a small smile playing on those lips, pushing forward but Genesis doesn't seem to want to let it win. Not just yet, at least. "I'm surprised," he says instead, corners of his lips quirking just a bit. "Compared to yesterday's sermon..."

"While I do believe we are each masters of our own destinies, that doesn't mean I will refuse a helping hand to anyone who needs it," Sephiroth offers and takes the cup between his hands. It's still hot, but by now comfortably so. "Unless you try and pull me into sin with you, who am I to deny you... apple pies and over-sweetened teas?" He hides the smile with the cup, but Genesis isn't blind.

"I don't buy it," Genesis says with a devious smile, but then he returns to his pie.

---

"As a priest and high authority and all... how about God creating us to his image?" Genesis leans back casually, slender fingers toying with his fork. "If God made me like this..."

"There is no proof of homosexuality not being... socially acquired," Sephiroth interrupts before even more blasphemy comes forth from that honeyed mouth. One that houses the tongue of a serpent, though. For a moment he wonders why they keep on putting up with the constant verbal jabs of the profane redhead on what is becoming a regular basis.

"Fine. Let's suppose it is," Genesis scoffs, blue eyes sparkling with challange. He loves it just a tad too much, it seems. "But if this is something I learnt to do as a child, infant even... how can I be held responsible?"

"A sin is a sin," Sephiroth answers curtly, and Angeal suddenly seems to have the time of his life watching where this is going.

"Hnn. So I can just whip myself every day, pray, avoid the temptation and I can earn my redemption for something that is not my fault... such a tempting bargain," the redhead's voice is wet silk, dripping sarcasm.

"And this is where the Protestants are wrong about predestination," Sephiroth nods.

"In the end, it is all a matter of faith," Angeal concludes, closes the book he wasn't reading anyway.

"Yeah, like me going out to the street corner and shouting about holy pink elephants," Genesis adds with a leer and after a second, they both burst out laughing.

Sephiroth just rolls his eyes. "I'm sorry, Genesis," he continues, gets the attention of them both. "But the Bible strictly speaks of homosexuals in the same way as it does of manslayers, whoremongers, liars and all the other sinners."

Genesis doesn't bother hiding his eye roll. "And yet I thought you bowed to Christ and not Paul..."

"Semantics is not the argument that will..."

"You're calling me a murderer..." Genesis interrupts Sephiroth's interruption, practically spits the words with utter disgust, because he's the type incapable of keeping the same mood for more than a few minutes. Then he laughs, back to his normal, amused, argumentative self. "Whom exactly do I harm by sleeping with a man instead of a woman?"

"Yourself," Sephiroth responds and Genesis, once more, rolls his eyes.

"Well, unless he's a fan of barebacki..."

"Genesis!" Angeal ends up being the one yelling, interrupting, and the two of them look back at him. "Not in our house, please."

Genesis chuckles, dare written all over his face. "I thought this was God's house," he teases.

"Well, definitely not there," Angeal adds, but with enough warmth to soothe the redhead.

"And yet I thought He sees everything anyway," Genesis says, then looks at Sephiroth, smiling, completely ignoring their little exchange of mere seconds ago. "Any pie left?"

---

The next entire week is spent without Genesis, and Sephiroth would die before admitting it to anyone, but he feels a hole in his life. He can't really believe it how it had happened, that someone who was practically a stranger mere weeks ago managed to sneak into their lives with such ease.

Not a day passed by without the redhead's name being ushered, either by Angeal or by Sephiroth or even by Genesis himself. And, if he hadn't contacted Angeal in more than two days, the other priest was already worried and fussing and trying to come up with a way to drag him in.

So, the day seven that he doesn't arrive, and Angeal makes no mention of the man, Sephiroth starts to worry.

"Is..." he starts as he runs into Angeal in the kitchen, the perpetual swallower of books. "Gardening again?" Sephiroth asks casually as Angeal looks up at him, over the rim of his reading glasses.

The man smiles. "I presume you didn't come all the way down here to ask me about my reading material," he simply says and Sephiroth feigns a smile, exaggerates taking a glass from the cupboard, filling it with cold water from the refrigerator.

"Did you have a fight?" he asks after drinking half the glass. Angeal sighs, places the book onto the table gently.

"Considering how much you fussed with not letting him feel too comfortable around here, I must say I'm surprised," he says warmly, leans back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest.

"Please," Sephiroth adds sarcastically. "With your nose in the book all the time, are you surprised I found myself a suitable replacement for a mirror?" he teases, flicks the hair off his forehead, a gesture suitable enough for all those years Angeal spent on teasing him about that little part of his vanity he just can't let go. "I miss our talks."

Angeal just smirks, definitely amused, even puts his glasses onto the book. "I'm really happy the two of you are getting along, Seph," he says, warmly, and Sephiroth seats himself on the chair opposite of Angeal's. "Two people who mean the most to me." It's an honest statement and Sephiroth is no fool, he sees how hard it is for Angeal to admit something that should be so simple, so normal for humans. But it's not. "I apologize."

"What for?" Sephiroth asks, honestly perplexed.

Angeal forces a smirk. "Some things could be misinterpreted, I'm afraid." It's an honest observation in today's world, obsessed with the material, obsessed with the sexual, turning the greatest gift to mankind into perversity, obscenity.

"Not by me," Sephiroth answers, finishes his water and promptly gets up. He notices Angeal mulling something over, but the man then closes his lips and smiles instead. Sephiroth decides to ignore it. He's too sleepy already, maybe it's better not to ponder on matters beyond his reach. Not without caffeine or a good night's sleep, at least. "To stop any further misinterpretations, Genesis is always welcome as far as I'm concerned," he adds and Angeal bites his lower lip not to grin. "As are all God's children. Good night." Angeal just nods in return.

---

"Blessed be," he hears the beautiful, melodic voice, startling him awake from his almost-slumber. Another night spent with a dying man's family in the hospital, and the heat and motion of the bus is quite lulling.

"Forever more, amen," Sephiroth looks up at him with mild surprise. He has never seen the redhead in such high spirit before and can't help but marvel at the soulfulness of that fine-featured, elegant face.

"Mind if I sit?" Genesis asks, bright smile still in place.

"Please do. Visiting Angeal?" he asks, even though it is far too early for any kind of visit, but he is too tired to try and figure it out on his own.

"Library," Genesis beams, holds up the green military-like sack to show off the books stashed inside. "Managed to get a card for the year," he adds with a mischievous smile and Sephiroth just returns it, decides not to ask.

"You could have asked," Sephiroth says, stifles a yawn and pulls to the window to free the seat for Genesis. "We have a small library in the basement. For the children."

Genesis laughs, hugs his bag. "I think I'm a bit beyond Little Bible and Mother Teresa's biographies, don't you think?"

Sephiroth stretches his arms, he's just too tired. "I think we can offer more than that," he says, just a tad cheekily. "Angeal tends to be obsessive when it comes to reading."

Genesis cranes his head to look at him, one eyebrow slightly elevated. "Angeal? Reading?" he asks, then laughs. "Well, I'll be damned. He used to hate books."

"He did?" Sephiroth asks, surprised himself, because about every memory he has of the man is with a book in his hands. He seems like a hamster sometimes, buying anything he can afford, practically singlehandedly building that small library they have, a collection that would make the cardinal die of a heart attack if he ever found out.

"I never could understand it," Genesis says. "So many new worlds to explore... he just refused to see the point. Ah, well..." he brushes it off with a shrug. "I suppose stranger things have happened."

"Quite honestly, the number of times I've warned him he'd blind himself... no wonder he needs reading glasses in his thirties..." It's Genesis' laughter that stops Sephiroth's musings and Sephiroth looks at him in question.

"Angeal?" Genesis asks, visibly amused. "Wearing glasses?" He laughs once more. "Well, fuck me sideways." He freezes a second after the curse is out. "Forgive me, father."

Sephiroth dismisses him with a chuckle, pulls himself onto his feet because he needs to get off on the next stop. Genesis moves to the side, frees the passage, but still looks at him a tad apologetically.

"Enjoy your books," Sephiroth says with a smile and Genesis nods. "Angeal is leading the Mass tomorrow, so I hope to see you there." It's a tad hopeful, presumptuous to say the least, but Sephiroth would really like to see him. It's been a while.

Genesis seems to ignore it, as though he didn't hear a word, already opening his bag happily.

Leaving the bus, Sephiroth can't but wonder why this person doesn't irk him like everyone else. Perhaps he's just getting softer with age.

---

Angeal's sermons are the most beautiful things, at least for attracting people. He just has that gift, something Sephiroth stopped bothering to develop long ago. He made peace with the fact that he's there to prevent people from falling, and if they do, then Angeal takes over. It's just one of the bricks in the foundation that keeps the harmony in their little parish.

They're having a small brunch in the rectory, because Angeal is celebrating the donation of the seedlings for the school garden. Sephiroth hates the gloating elite of their little community, but as the cardinal always says, you need to make sacrifices to have your way in the end.

He's happy when Genesis appears there too, far too many eyebrows raised by the redhead's presence.

"I know I wasn't invited," Genesis says, loudly enough, and Sephiroth smiles, notices people trying to stare, but being too polite to do it directly.

"You know, by now, you're always invited," Sephiroth simply responds, then notices Angeal approach.

"Can I speak with you?" he asks, glances at Genesis for a moment. "In private?" Genesis shrugs, then leaves for the small buffet. The two priests disappear to the next room and Angeal closes the door behind them.

"Are you mad?" Sephiroth demands, confused. "That's not the way to behave..."

"I'm not the mad one here, Seph. Do you think his absence had no reason?"

"If it had, you did not deign to reveal it to me," Sephiroth points out, and it comes out way more accusingly than it should. Angeal and his secrets...

"Probably I should've," the older priest sighs.

"About what?" Sephiroth demands. "What is it with Genesis?"

"Not in public, Sephiroth," Angeal says as though everything is so obvious. "You can't do that while we have guests here."

"It's not like he hasn't visited us before," Sephiroth frowns, confused.

"I know," Angeal sighs, keeps his gaze everywhere but on Sephiroth's eyes.

"What changed then?"

"You invited him. In front of all those shrews, which is probably as public as it can get and no, please just listen to me this once," he holds up a palm as the younger wants to interrupt him. "I know you, Seph, I've known you for years."

"Isn't it a bit too late to worry about my reputation?" Sephiroth tries to save the situation with some humour edged to his voice, but Angeal remains serious, unhappy, even.

"Word is spreading, Seph. You know how it goes."

"Should we close our doors before him just because he is gay?"

Angeal swallows, forces himself to speak nonetheless.

"No. But maybe you want to close your doors before a whore."

Here be pretties!

2009-08-28T23:55:08Z

Since I don't want to be late again, here, have a look at the bishie of the month!

July

Okay, those are actually bishies. More yumm for the price of one. :P

Wadaiko Yamato is a Japanese musical group of taiko drummers founded in 1993 by Masa Ogawa. In Japanese, the word "wadaiko" translates as "Japanese drum" and "Yamato" was the former name of the city of Nara, the group's birthplace.

Since its creation, the group has made over one thousand live performances to over one million people in more than 20 countries in Asia, Europe, and the Americas. The group's international debut occurred in 1998 at the Edinburgh Festival Fringe, where the group was awarded the "Spirit of the Fringe" award. The following year, the group embarked on three international tours.

We have seen them live in Cologne. Unforgettable experience is all I'm saying. ~~And those arms and backs...~~

August

Yuya Yagira (born March 26, 1990) is a Japanese actor from Tokyo. Widely acknowledged for his performance of the 12 year old Akira in the highly acclaimed movie Nobody Knows (Award winner of Cannes in 2004). The movie is based on a true story of a mother abandoning her kids in Tokyo without anyone noticing the dire circumstances of the children. He also plays Tetsumu in the movies Shining Boy and Little Randy. ~~And I hope all of you feels as dirty now as I did when I saw the movie.~~

On a sidenote, Ice and I have been writing smut today. I am officially terrified of my own brain ~~and wondering how come lightening didn't strike me yet.~~

Those Without Sin: Chapter 01 - The Other Gods

2009-08-26T21:51:20Z

01. The Other Gods

---

"Bless me, father, for I have sinned."

Sephiroth opens the shutter of the wooden lace, stifling a yawn. He doesn't even bother looking at the person in the other part of the confessional; all in a day's work, and today really isn't that different to begin with. "Confess your sins, child." His tone is even, flat and just a little bit bored.

"Who are you?" he hears a voice say, accusingly and it's the first moment that Sephiroth actually bothers getting off his auto pilot, craning his head to look at the person sitting on the other side. He sees darkness of the confessional, a young face framed with dark red hair, smiling at him in a somewhat cynical way, pale skin reflecting the pattern of the wooden lace. There's something elegant about those features, but things aren't that simple. Then again, he had been accused of seeing the worst in people, though he can't exactly say he'd seen the devil before. "Where is Angeal?"

Sephiroth clears his throat, eyes on the pair of those practically burning his soul with question, and then something more. They're like two endless pits; a shimmering light pulls you in further with every second you gaze at them. "Father Hewley has been feeling ill this morning, so I..."

"Is Angeal okay?" the person asks, accusingly, and then leans closer to the lace, not even bothering to hide the amusement as those eyes inspect all the corners of Sephiroth's little room. Sephiroth sees the fingers, long, lean, so ladylike, the rest of the hand hidden with fingerless gloves that have probably seen better times a decade or so ago.

He even smells it, the thick electrifying scent that he couldn't place at the start, but it all makes sense now.

"Just a mild cold," he answers flatly, pulling himself together and away from the lace. The person chuckles ever so slightly, looking down now, digging through the little dark green military looking bag he's been keeping on his knees. He pulls out a pack of cigarettes and Sephiroth reacts with clearing his throat again to get his attention. "No smoking allowed," he warns and the person greets him with one eyebrow raised, smiling amusingly at him while pulling out the lighter.

"I apologize." There is just so much wrong in his tone that Sephiroth would have laughed were he the type. "Well, then..." And the next moment, the person just gets up and leaves the confessional, and Sephiroth really thinks he shouldn't be affected in a way to get out himself and try and get more information on how and why this person knows Angeal. But, by the time he's out, all he ends up seeing is a young man in a light brown over-sized coat walking to the building's exit, the trail of smoke playing with the light cutting the darkness of the old church.

Vanilla.

He's tempted to follow, but he decides against it.

Be not curious in unnecessary matters...

---

Angeal's room is tiny and over-cramped. Ever since day one the two had clashed in almost every important topic. Where Angeal sees no harm whatsoever in a bit of a luxury, Sephiroth despises all the humanly corporal desires and regards them exactly what they are - sins. And, in spite the fact that Angeal has no problem in downing a bottle of expensive wine every few months, his personal quarters look... lacking. For the lack of a better term.

The chairs and the small table that seems to have never been in a set are old, as well as the bookshelf filled with books that would serve much better in some public library or a flea market instead of the priest's quarters. The bed is tiny, and makes all sorts of noises when Angeal turns in it at night. But, in the end, the room surely does depict the inner state of peace Angeal's soul obviously possesses. He can speak of many things for the weaker men, and it still takes Sephiroth by surprise every now and then when he's reminded that Angeal's words, indeed, are not excuses.

Something so rare in the world nowadays.

"What brings you here, my friend?" Angeal asks from his little bed, still looking a little pale and voice a little raspy, but he'll live.

Sephiroth smiles, almost widely (or as widely as he'd ever allow himself). "I brought you tea," he says.

"Sweetened?" Angeal asks, almost hopeful, pulling himself in a seated position with a cough.

Sephiroth instantly jumps out of his chair and pulls it closer to the bed.

"Do you think I'm senile already?" he asks with enough humour that makes them both smile.

"By the shade of your hair..."

"You can't blame me for being born like this," Sephiroth teases with enough good natured humour as he flips the few shorter strands of hair away from his forehead."

"But I can for your pride," Angeal offers, but neither of them seems bothered by it as he takes the steaming cup from Sephiroth and warms his fingers on it.

"I had an interesting visitor at the confessions today," Sephiroth starts then and Angeal looks up at him, ignoring the tea for a second. "Some redhead. Asked for you specifically..." He lets the sentence linger in the air, because it's obvious Angeal, besides being surprised, knows quite well who Sephiroth is speaking about.

Though, he ends up just shrugging his shoulders and Sephiroth is smart enough not to try and push it, though he'd like. It's not every day he witnesses Angeal lying to his face.

Then he laughs at the grimace Angeal makes after trying the tea. "You call that sweet?"

---

The bell of the bakery door chimes softly as he closes it, package in hand. It's the day after vigil, and he is rewarding himself and Angeal with something so small, pushing down some lingering sense of guilt just because he likes his rolls fresh. The weather is chilly, a little rain drizzling from the dark clouds here and then. Sephiroth pulls his coat tighter against his body, shutting out the wind.

There are not many people on the bus, it is not hard to spot him, at least he thinks he recognises the man with the red hair from the confessional. A huge, soft-looking scarf is wrapped around his throat, covering the lower half of his face, but his colours are so unusual, Sephiroth is fairly certain it's him. An old, well-used book is open, long, elegant fingers skimming along the lines as he reads them. And Sephiroth would just look away, were it not for the huge golden cross on the cover.

Rarely does one see a man this young read the Bible on a bus of all places. There is just something about the way he does it, with so much concentration, like he wants to commit the whole thing to memory that piques the priest's interest. That and the fact that he never got to know what baggage the man carries. It's unusual, to say the least. As he looks around, he knows those people, knows what no one but God has the right to know, and it is sometimes sickening but mostly just sad. Wives with abusive husbands, spoilt children, cheating husbands, people who lost their loved ones, the sluts and the whores, the drunkards, the suicidal, the delusional, the weak, he knows them all.

He smiles a bit inwardly as he remembers Angeal's favourite line. With the measure you judge another, by that same measure will you be judged.

By which measure would they judge him, he wonders.

He takes a seat next to the stranger, eyes on the script.

"Quomodo cecidisti de caelo, Lucifer, qui mane oriebaris?*" he reads aloud, and the redhead looks up, shuts the book with a small thud.

"You know, I've been called many things before, father," and there is a smile, barely there, but somehow so wrong, so much older than the face. "But never this."

"My apologies. I have never seen a layman read it in Latin before," Sephiroth replies, uses the opportunity to change the topic. "Were you the one who came to see me a few days ago?"

"And if I was, what of the vow of silence, father?" the other teases, an eyebrow mockingly arched.

Sephiroth can't help but notice the richness of that voice.

"If there is anything..."

"Nothing you should worry about. Tell Angeal that Genesis sends his regards."

"I will," Sephiroth nods, lips still open with unsaid questions. That name...

"He should take better care of himself. And you too, looking for lost causes to save." Despite the tone, there is a smile on the redhead's lips. Then the doors open and he is gone, leaving a faint trail of spicy fragrance behind.

Sephiroth's eyes follow him, swinging gait and the end of his scarf whipping in the wind until the bus takes a turn and there is nothing left to see but a few trees and people doing their daily shopping.

Lost cause... there are no lost causes in his line of occupation.

---

He really shouldn't be poking his nose in someone else's business. It's not polite, for start and, besides, Angeal and he wouldn't be able to operate as well in the same parish – under the same roof – had they tried to fight their way into each other's life.

While Sephiroth is used to sharing everything, as he had effectively never actually owned a thing, Angeal prefers to have his own little private corner where he can hide and deal with whatever projects he's dealing with.

"You lied to me," Sephiroth says over a glass of mulled wine, wrapped tightly in an over-sized blanket before their little stove.

Angeal doesn't really say anything. He tries to read; there's something he's trying to do with the overgrown yard of their local school and nobody seems to know much about gardening. It's obvious his eyes aren't scanning the lines of the page anymore.

"Who is Genesis?" Sephiroth tries, not accusingly but that's how it comes out. Angeal still keeps the pretence, even flips the page, his head falling even lower.

Sephiroth sighs, puts the cup onto their little coffee table that serves as an additional bookshelf more often than not.

"Someone from your past?" he tries a bit more warmly and sees the sarcastic little smile appear on those eyes, but it doesn't get farther than that. "If you're in trouble-"

"Can't you keep your nose out of my damned business?" Angeal snaps and Sephiroth can't think of seeing his friend as irritable as right now. He does end up chuckling then, shaking his head to pull himself together. "I apologize," he says warmly, slapping the book shut, looking at Sephiroth with a smile. "I guess I'm not as young anymore," he adds with enough good humour to make Sephiroth think twice before raising that eyebrow. "My wine tolerance has never been this low."

It's a ghost of a smile that escapes to the corners of Sephiroth's lips. "Oh, I bet you've got a few good years ahead of you," he adds cynically, making his companion laugh.

They resume their silence then, Sephiroth excusing himself at one point to bring them another cup of wine. Normally, Sephiroth wouldn't mind, enjoying their silent evenings. They are usually an excellent opportunity to catch up on a little meditation and introspection.

But not this time. It irks him. A lot. He knows he shouldn't be obsessing over such frivolous matters, but that's exactly it. This person seems to play a large role in Angeal's life (or at least, he has, at some point), if the amount of effort Angeal is investing into pretending it isn't happening is any sort of an indication.

"Does he want money?" he just can't keep his mouth shut at this point. Angeal freezes. "Because, if he is, I can hel-"

"For God's sakes, Sephiroth, not everyone's a sinner!" Angeal practically screams at him, smashing the book onto the floor as he gets up.

"I beg to differ," Sephiroth continues stupidly, mistaking this as an invitation to a debate, though a second after he's spoken the words, his mistake is far too apparent.

"Try tasting the real world before judging," Angeal snaps bitterly before leaving the room without a good night.

---

The next morning, first thing Sephiroth says upon seeing Angeal is "I'm sorry."

Angeal just smiles right before yawning. "I suppose I should apologize as well."

Sephiroth shrugs. "Not needed," he says and it makes Angeal laugh.

"Our Lord suffered and died on the cross, can't you at least accept an apology without pomp?" It's Sephiroth's time to stare at Angeal. As unorthodox as his friend normally is, words like these seem a bit too much. They seem to be a whole new level of sacrilegious, but Sephiroth isn't the one to say it.

To say there's something bothering Angeal would be understating the matters gravely.

Instead of pushing it again, Sephiroth just smiles, passing Angeal by to his way to the bathroom.

"He is a very old friend who means a lot to me," Angeal answers with a sigh.

"I sometimes forget you had a life before this one," Sephiroth offers almost apologetically.

"We are all humans," Angeal says with a shrug, then smiles. "Well, at least most of us." There's enough teasing in those eyes, another smile really isn't needed to pull a blush to Sephiroth's face. Instead of reacting, he just pushes the door closed with his free hand, already holding the tooth brush with the other.

---

Sephiroth sighs as he hears someone enter the confessional. All in a day's work, he keeps on reminding himself. All in a day's work.

"Forgive me, father, for I have sinned." He recognizes the voice instantly, looking up to a pair of amused eyes on a face reflecting the pattern of the wooden lace. "Well?" Genesis asks after a few seconds of silence, cocking his head slightly, one corner of his lips quirked just enough.

Sephiroth doesn't even bother keeping his lips from pursing, this amuses him in a strange sort of way. Perhaps it's gloating but he refuses to think about that. "Confess your sins," he whispers and Genesis laughs, rather loudly.

"Not child anymore, I see," he says, leans and relaxes his back to the confessional wall, crossing one leg over the other and, Sephiroth realizes the man is wearing red pants. The leg sleeve doesn't seem big to begin with, but still looks too big, which makes Sephiroth wonder how thin this person actually is. "What changed, Father?"

Sephiroth skips a bead on his rosary without even realizing it. "Nothing," he says flatly. "Do you wish to confess or just talk?"

Genesis purses his lips ever so slightly, a bit too amused by it. "And where's the difference?"

"So I know what you want from me - compassion or guidance," Sephiroth answers, relaxes a bit as well after seeing Genesis tense, whatever humorous reply he'd prepared gets lost on his tongue.

"I don't need either."

Sephiroth produces a small shrug. "Then why are you here?"

"Boredom?"

"I don't like to be mocked."

Genesis laughs. "Just because I'm looking for amusement doesn't mean I seek comedy." He leans closer now, something shifting in that face, amusement turning serious then a bit too mocking, but Sephiroth cannot stop and think how this is just a natural state of things for this man. He seems to mean no harm, even though that's exactly what he wants everyone else to think. "And besides, what happened with welcoming everyone? Or was it really Vatican too much**?"

Sephiroth can't but blink, stare deeply into those eyes, and they seem so vile, so angry, so hurt and then again, so much more. "I thought the point of internal jokes was to keep them internal."

Genesis chuckles. "You probably think Angeal breaks his promises, don't you?" he asks with accusation. "I assure you, he does not. At least not intentionally. But I know my dear friend a bit too well."

This piques Sephiroth's interest and he tries to hide it. He fails at it, if the amused look on Genesis' face is to be judged. Then again, he keeps on telling himself, why would he be bothered by curiosity about his friend of so many years? "Yes, I'm rather old school, if that's what you're implying."

"Poor little choir boy who's never seen the real world," Genesis mocks and gets up from his seat. Sephiroth quickly follows, though he has no idea why exactly.

It amuses Genesis to no end, and he shows it as they both exit the small confinement of the confessional.

"What do you want from him?" Sephiroth asks, doesn't bother hiding the acid.

Genesis instantly turns serious to the point of anger. "How dare you?" he spits, it's obvious he's thinking about leaving, but still, he remains right there on the spot.

Sephiroth sighs, closing his eyes. He gives up on holding that one bead without any chance of moving, so he pulls the entire rosary into his palm. "I apologize," he says a bit too quietly. "Please..."

Back to that mocking gaze, lips pursed just enough, Genesis chuckles. "Yes, he told me you're a bit... fiery tempered."

"Angeal?"

"Who else?" Genesis asks a bit too loudly. "Do you think I have a habit of befriending priests or what?" It's enough to make Sephiroth smile. The image itself looks a bit like a mixture of something disturbing and wrong.

"No," Sephiroth says simply. "You don't strike me as the type."

"Is Angeal here?" Genesis asks then, voice surprisingly soft all of a sudden. After a second of thought, Sephiroth nods. "Can I see him?"

"I don't see why not," Sephiroth simply answers. "Follow me."

"Thank you." It's hard to imagine someone like Genesis could sound so sincere.

---

_{* How art thou fallen from heaven, O Lucifer, son of the morning! how art thou cut down to the ground, which didst weaken the nations! (Isaiah 14:12 KJV)

** Derogatory term for Vatican II, sometimes used by the more orthodox priests.}

Ich bin ein... Hagener?

2009-08-25T23:12:03Z

Back from Germany. Had the time of my life, literally. We went to Cologne again... and again. And shopped and just generally had an awesome time. Even managed to meet up with kabuki_chan, who just happens to be totally adorable and awesome company. Arrived home safe and sound and very tired and sad.

Watched Priest with Ice, and my, am I fangirling about that movie now. So damn much. It is made of complete and utter WIN. God, those dialogues. And the kissing scenes. And just... everything. *fangirls* If you haven't watched the movie yet, I highly recommend it. I just love how emotional and beautifully done and pure awesome it is. Watch it. You know you want to.

Took Ice shopping, which kind of ended up as a disaster. I didn't know there were no late night buses from Tesco so we had to bribe a guy to take us by car to the nearest station, had no idea what bus to take, got off at the wrong stop, missed the last tram, walked over to next main station (30 min trekking) and last bus just didn't come, so had to take two night buses instead, freezing our asses off at the stop. But we made it in the end. In four hours we were home - at almost 3am. She said it was quite the adventure... but she said she liked it? And at least I now know that we have all you can eat Japanese restaurants in Budapest. YAY!

Being back home alone sucks though.

Writingwise, be afraid. Be very, very afraid.

ETA: Here, have a vid. Red's new album gives a whole new meaning to FST.

Stuff

2009-08-16T21:07:06Z

I am still pampered to death and enjoying myself immensely. We went to Seaworld and Neanderthal. Can you imagine all the squeeing there was? :D Spent the past two days lazying around and stuffing ourselves with chocolate. I don't believe I've ever laughed so much in my entire life. We discussed many things, among them a LotR/FFVII crossover. Special emphasis on Gollum/Cloud.

Also, we agreed that for outsiders, our conversations might seem a bit... well, interesting? With sentences like "If you stabbed someone across the lungs, would he choke or drown in his own blood?" and "Good thing he is legal for me now... Imagine adding I have to go now, I have a class with my kids." Also, bringing up Hitler and the Mein Kampf at the breakfast table of a German family not speaking a word of English might not be the smartest idea... but it's sure as hell fun!

Oh, and we went to Ikea...

Title: Make A House A Home
Pairing: implied Sephiroth/Genesis
Rating: PG
Warning: none
Word Count: ~240
A/N: Two more OCs.

---

"Lars!"

"Mmm?"

"Psst, Lars!"

"Get your elbow out of my side Melvin before I make your mom hiccup."

"Did you get up with your left foot first again, Mr. Savage?"

"What do you want, you idiot?"

"Hey, hey, no need to get all snappish!"

"I'm working, unlike someone I know."

"Oh shut up and look at those guys there."

"Don't you have anything better to do but oggle the customers?"

"No, really, I mean, look at them!"

"The icicle and the rainbow advertisement?"

"Don't you think that's the General? And don't roll your eyes, Lars, just look."

"You are completely nuts, you know tha- Holy."

"Exactly. If that is not the Great General Sephiroth, I'll eat my cap."

"You can start then, cause there is just no way..."

"Have you lived your whole life under a rock, Lars? There are no other people with glowing mako eyes but SOLDIERs. And that hair!"

"Could be a wig or something."

"Yeah, and the other guy is cosplaying Genesis Rhapsodos for the sheer hell of it."

"How the hell should I know? The world is full of crazies, I should know, I have to work with them."

"You are such a jerk, Lars."

"Whatever. And anyway, why would your idols go shopping for a bed together? Like they don't have better things to do with their time."

"Actually, what concerns me more is... why are they testing all the headboards?"

---

WIP meme!

Post a single sentence from each WIP you have (or as many as you want to pick). No context, no explanations.

1. “So tell me, songbird,” Sephiroth starts, palm under the foot while the other hand pushes red over the toes gently, “why this?” He glances up with a smile, but then returns his eyes back onto one very long and very feminine looking red leather boot.

2. Angeal, covered in red blood and black grime, looking back at him with eyes filled with despair and worry before he too, was dragged down to the ground just like the burning, majestic apple trees hit the earth that was turned to mud around them with the spilled blood of their enemies.

3. "One more pedophile joke from you, Angeal Hewley, and you are sleeping on the couch," Genesis sent him a pointed glare over his book.

4. “That’s the trouble with having hippies for parents. Just imagine if they named him Flower or Peace or something like that.”

5. Don’t forget to eat regularly, wash your socks, don’t stay up too long, book the train ticket in advance and don’t forget to water the flowers before leaving the flat, he knew the whole list by heart by now.

6. "He is waiting... Waiting to be redeemed."

7. They think he would sell his mother’s soul to the devil if that would benefit him. They are right.

8. "Insects and gods, Weiss," Genesis whispered sweetly, a taunting, gloating smile on his lips even as his head was yanked back by a hand gripping at his copper locks.

9. “Is it a custom here not to have shower curtains and walk in on your guests, or should I feel honoured?”

10. Sephiroth doesn’t answer. Not because he doesn't have a snide remark ready to be thrown at the other, but because when this old and used strap of leather is around his neck, the rules of the game are that he dare not.

11. He might have saved Rome, but he sold his soul to the devil for it.

12. “What, yo? Don’t tell me you are jealous of Rude’s mother?”

13. “Lucifer, Serpent of God,” he whispered as if mesmerised, his core pulsing with fear and worry at the sight of the Fallen.

14. “Until you don’t expect me to gut chickens for you, it’s all fine and dandy. That’s why I love baking.”

15. Genesis swore, nothing had ever terrified him more, and Sephiroth obviously knew it. Perhaps that was a chuckle, perhaps it was not, but what *it* was couldn’t compare to the sound of metal sliding over metal in slow, stubborn, trained movements.

16. "On the desk?" Lazard manages to ask, and Rufus produces a small chuckle, still
showing there's a flicker of that bastard underneath this heap of want.

17. “I noticed it when you were playing the singer who has to bribe the police chief to bail the guitarist out of prison before a gig,” Zack said rubbing the back of his neck a bit embarrassedly at remembering just what exactly Genesis’ argument was... it didn’t really contain words, for one.

18. As much as the silver general enjoyed their rather frequent bantering, right now they had far more satisfying things to do, and the noises he wanted to hear from those enticingly wet and swollen lips were definitely not words.

19. With a sideways glance, he could see the last of the pack climbing the side of the ravine that connected the ridge and the valley.

20. It was just a breathy gasp, powerless and desperate and oh so beautiful, but it was not what he wanted, what he needed, and Genesis ran a fingertip lightly along the rich lower lip, dipping inside just a bit, tracing the skin where wet heat met with kiss-bruised velvet.

21. “Let me guess. It was Zack’s fault.”

22. He felt the convulsion that ripped through the First Class SOLDIER, blood bursting forth from his mouth, vivid, fresh red staining his parted lips.

Long time no see

2009-08-13T00:08:49Z

Just a brief update on what is happening to us here.

Went shopping. Like... a few times. Well, a few days. I now has gothic pants! And a maffia hat! And shiny make up! A Che Guevara bag for crying out loud! And and... Oh Germany... can I move here? *loves*

Went to Cologne and saw the dome and oh god. Am such a sucker for churches, especially old ones, big ones, shiny gothic ones because they look so awesome and the craftmanship required for them is amaaaazing, and of all I have seen so far, the Dome definitely is my favourite. It's almost as impressive inside as the one in Canterbury but much prettier on the outside. And HUGE. And am so in love with it it's not even funny! And there is Starbucks right at the corner, so I kind of had everything one can ask for. I think Cologne owes me panties.

Especially since in the evening we went to see Yamato and oh dear Lord were they awesome. And then some more. The most breathtaking, interactive, funny, gripping and adorable thing I have ever seen. With bishies. With the most gorgeous arms and backs EVER. I think I developed a major crush on one of them. Which reminds me to post bishie of the month updates and the WIP meme tomorrow.

Watched ACC, and wow. I mean, WOW. Shiny. Loz is the best thing ever, I'm sorry he is. *fangirls* The whole movie makes more sense now and the small corrections many times add to the characterisation. Also watched Nobody Knows and felt extremely guilty for finding Akira hot as hell. So good that he is legal now. :P

Anyway, it's late... Right now we are hording bunnies of a Terminator/FFVII crossover. With vibrating robots. And whatnot. And Tseng in fuchsia.

... time for bed.