In Darkness Dwell
In Darkness Dwell
By Mistress Samwise
(Zack/Sephiroth)
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Sephiroth can't have the one thing he really wants.
Prompts: Starlight, Slumber, Grip, Burn, Release
Part One: Starlight
Sephiroth stood on the roof of the compound, arms spread wide and lifted toward the sky, body clad in nothing more than his customary black leather pants. He sighed as the night air kissed his skin, smiled a small, tight smile as the breeze--heavy with the oiled leather scent of the compound--curled across his face. He enjoyed these nights. This solitude. It was a time when he was surrounded by nothing and no one, disturbed by no voice but his own. Up here there was no ShinRa, no SOLDIER. No wars to fight, no troops to lead into death and decimation. There were just the stars overhead and the silence of the empty night. Sephiroth opened his eyes and dropped his arms gracefully to his sides.
There was one thing lacking in the perfection of the night, one flaw in this beautiful design. He looked behind him, beside him. And sighed. There was no brash chuckle echoing through the air, no familiar head of stubborn, spiky black hair. He didn’t know when his perception of Zack had changed, when the man had gone from rival to comrade to friend. And now… Sephiroth didn’t know quite what Zack was to him now. More than friend, and, though brother-in-arms, certainly not brother. There was a closeness between them that he couldn’t quite place, a connection they shared that he’d never felt with anyone else. Zack knew him. Zack…loved him.
Sephiroth frowned. He knew it was true. Zackary had told him, many times. And, more than that, Sephiroth could see it in the other man’s eyes, could feel it in even the most innocent touch. And they were all innocent. Surprisingly so. Knowing the way Zack flirted with every living human--man or woman--he could get his too skilled hands on, Sephiroth wasn’t quite sure why he was left out of the casual teasing. But he was grateful for it. He didn’t think he would be able to stand it if Zackary were to touch him like that, to allow his hands to linger on Sephiroth’s skin, his fingers to trail down a strong, pale arm…
Sephiroth shivered. No. He wouldn’t be able to stand that. There was a sickness inside him, one that lurked and hid deep within his consciousness. He could feel it growing every day, a roiling blackness tinged with feral anger. It consumed whatever it touched. It was what came over him during battle, what enabled him to kill with such seeming ease. It was dark and furious, mad with rage. And it was part of him, an indelible facet of his thrice-damned personality. It was a part of him he knew far too well.
And it was a part of him to which he would not subject Zackary. Zack was the only friend he’d ever had, was his lifeline in this forsaken place. And he would not repay that undeserved kindness with his filth. He would not inflict his taint upon Zackary’s skin. Because Sephiroth knew. He knew that when he was with Zack, when his hands ached to reach out and brush against his young friend’s waiting flesh, the darkness rose up within him, hungry and intent. It wanted Zackary.
He wanted Zackary.
But Zackary was something Sephiroth could never have.
He took a deep breath and lifted his face to the sky, casting his too green eyes to the wide expanse of silver and midnight blue that crowned the world. For a moment he was clean, bathed in pure, shifting starlight.
And then the moment was gone. A cloud covered the moon and darkness reigned once more. Slowly, reluctantly, Sephiroth lowered his chin and turned away from the roof’s edge. Gathering his gear and slipping back into the elegant trappings of his uniform, he left the roof, left his sanctuary and returned to the world of ShinRa and SOLDIER through nondescript, the entrance to a narrow stairwell.
It was time to get back to work.
Part Two: Slumber
Part Three: Grip
Part Four: Burn
Part Five: Release
By Mistress Samwise
(Zack/Sephiroth)
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Sephiroth can't have the one thing he really wants.
Prompts: Starlight, Slumber, Grip, Burn, Release
Part One: Starlight
Sephiroth stood on the roof of the compound, arms spread wide and lifted toward the sky, body clad in nothing more than his customary black leather pants. He sighed as the night air kissed his skin, smiled a small, tight smile as the breeze--heavy with the oiled leather scent of the compound--curled across his face. He enjoyed these nights. This solitude. It was a time when he was surrounded by nothing and no one, disturbed by no voice but his own. Up here there was no ShinRa, no SOLDIER. No wars to fight, no troops to lead into death and decimation. There were just the stars overhead and the silence of the empty night. Sephiroth opened his eyes and dropped his arms gracefully to his sides.
There was one thing lacking in the perfection of the night, one flaw in this beautiful design. He looked behind him, beside him. And sighed. There was no brash chuckle echoing through the air, no familiar head of stubborn, spiky black hair. He didn’t know when his perception of Zack had changed, when the man had gone from rival to comrade to friend. And now… Sephiroth didn’t know quite what Zack was to him now. More than friend, and, though brother-in-arms, certainly not brother. There was a closeness between them that he couldn’t quite place, a connection they shared that he’d never felt with anyone else. Zack knew him. Zack…loved him.
Sephiroth frowned. He knew it was true. Zackary had told him, many times. And, more than that, Sephiroth could see it in the other man’s eyes, could feel it in even the most innocent touch. And they were all innocent. Surprisingly so. Knowing the way Zack flirted with every living human--man or woman--he could get his too skilled hands on, Sephiroth wasn’t quite sure why he was left out of the casual teasing. But he was grateful for it. He didn’t think he would be able to stand it if Zackary were to touch him like that, to allow his hands to linger on Sephiroth’s skin, his fingers to trail down a strong, pale arm…
Sephiroth shivered. No. He wouldn’t be able to stand that. There was a sickness inside him, one that lurked and hid deep within his consciousness. He could feel it growing every day, a roiling blackness tinged with feral anger. It consumed whatever it touched. It was what came over him during battle, what enabled him to kill with such seeming ease. It was dark and furious, mad with rage. And it was part of him, an indelible facet of his thrice-damned personality. It was a part of him he knew far too well.
And it was a part of him to which he would not subject Zackary. Zack was the only friend he’d ever had, was his lifeline in this forsaken place. And he would not repay that undeserved kindness with his filth. He would not inflict his taint upon Zackary’s skin. Because Sephiroth knew. He knew that when he was with Zack, when his hands ached to reach out and brush against his young friend’s waiting flesh, the darkness rose up within him, hungry and intent. It wanted Zackary.
He wanted Zackary.
But Zackary was something Sephiroth could never have.
He took a deep breath and lifted his face to the sky, casting his too green eyes to the wide expanse of silver and midnight blue that crowned the world. For a moment he was clean, bathed in pure, shifting starlight.
And then the moment was gone. A cloud covered the moon and darkness reigned once more. Slowly, reluctantly, Sephiroth lowered his chin and turned away from the roof’s edge. Gathering his gear and slipping back into the elegant trappings of his uniform, he left the roof, left his sanctuary and returned to the world of ShinRa and SOLDIER through nondescript, the entrance to a narrow stairwell.
It was time to get back to work.
Part Two: Slumber
Part Three: Grip
Part Four: Burn
Part Five: Release