Black and Blue

Title: Black and Blue.
Fandom: Kingdom Hearts
Pairing: Sephiroth/Leon
Summary: Leon is alone late one night, bored. And he's not the only one. Written for YaoiChallenge

Disclaimer: The characters and places contained herein are not mine and I am making no money from this. They belong to Squareenix.

Warnings/notes:
Smut, feathers and mild bondage. Slightly non con in the No, no, no, Oh god yes way and slightly AU – includes some mild FF8 background implications but is set post KH2. (Hope he’s curious enough about the wings and that everything is okay.)

With thanks to Race Ulfson for betaing.

Black and Blue



Kiss my eyes - they're black and blue
Even if I shouldn't be here, I cannot help myself with you
There's something that I should have told you.
We won't get a second chance
Just one night is all we'll spend, together and it's killing me

Snow Patrol – Black and Blue





Leon reached for the cup of coffee he’d set down some time before without looking up from his book. His fingers curled around the handle of the mug – it was one that featured a humanized cartoon lion in the middle of a dance that Aerith had found entirely too cute to not inflict upon him at every possible opportunity – and bought it to his lips slowly.

It was cold.

He wrinkled his nose in distaste but it was caffeine and, since he didn’t feel like getting up just yet, it would have to do.

In truth, he wasn’t even reading the book in front of him. The words had blurred and merged into one long grey mess some time before. He had been attempting to read earlier, with a frown on his lips and his forehead cradled in one hand, but he hadn’t been able to concentrate for quite some time. Still he’d kept up the pretence, waiting for that presence he felt to either make itself known or leave him alone. Thus far it had done neither, simply remaining in the shadows behind him, waiting for something.

Leon was a patient man. He had to be to deal with the problems he faced every day. Everything that Ansem had been responsible for was now down to himself and his friends to deal with. The others seemed to be quite content to follow his lead, unfortunately, and he’d slipped into the position of leader to their merry band without quite realizing or wanting it.

Some evenings he trudged into the hidden rooms that had once belonged to Ansem the Wise to hide away from the others. The command room was usually quiet. Only Aerith dared to bother him there unless there was some sort of emergency.

Finally, Leon closed the book with a sigh and set it in his lap. Laying his bare hands on the black cover, he frowned. Despite his patience, the stranger had yet to even move and he was beginning to grow tired.

Turning his head to the side, but not turning fully to face whomever had stolen into his solitude to interrupt – albeit unwittingly – he hid his frown behind his old mask of disinterest. “Are you going to stand there all night?” he asked at last.

The faintest flicker of movement caught his eyes and he turned the chair slowly to give the trespasser his full attention.

The figure that stepped out into the half light of the command room was familiar to him by description alone. He’d heard Cloud speak of the rather imposing man who now stood before him often enough to know his name without having to ask for it. “Sephiroth,” He said as mildly as he could manage. Cloud’s tales of the man were still enough to have him bracing himself in readiness to draw his blade.

Just in case.

The blue lights from the computer control panel gave Sephiroth’s hair an unearthly sheen, turning it to quicksilver. He seemed to be considering something as he regarded Leon, tapping his chin with one finger thoughtfully. “Leon,” he murmured softly, then repeated the name with more confidence and clarity.

“That’s me,” Leon nodded. He shifted the book from his lap slowly. He wasn’t entirely sure when he’d stopped thinking of himself as Squall Leonhart so completely. Sometime after he’d said goodbye to Sora for the first time he supposed, but there was no hope of returning to that persona now. Leon was here to stay. “What do you want?” he asked cautiously.

Sephiroth didn’t respond, moving past Leon’s chair to stare down at the computer console.

In one smooth movement, Leon stood from his chair, drawing his gunblade from its hyper sheath and swung it, bringing it up on a wicked arc to Sephiroth’s throat, only stopping a hair’s breadth from the pale skin. Leon narrowed his blue grey eyes at the strange man in anger, but schooled the rest of his expression, and his voice. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Nothing of course,” Sephiroth purred, turning his head slowly to regard Leon. His expression was one of vague amusement, as though someone even thinking of stopping him, let alone attempting to do it was unknown and yet so very humorous. Sephiroth’s hands still hung at his sides, not reaching for the vicious blade that Leon had heard tales of. “Do you think you could really stop me if I did attempt something?”

“Maybe,” Leon said, stepping back but keeping his gunblade in precisely the same position. He kicked the chair he’d been curled up in out of the way, to enable him to brace his free hand on the hilt of his weapon. Sephiroth’s eyes were blue. Pure blue, just like Clouds and Leon could have sworn Cloud had told him they were green. He didn’t seem the type to make a mistake like that. “Maybe not, but I’m willing to try.”

With a soft chuckle, Sephiroth stepped back from the glittering gunblade, taking the seat Leon had kicked away. “You aren’t afraid of me. How… novel.”

Lowering his blade slowly before returning it to the hyper sheath, Leon shrugged. “Whatever,” he murmured, leaning against the computer console. In truth he had no reason to be afraid. He’d heard Cloud’s tales of course, of how formidable a foe the winged figure seated before him was but he wasn’t entirely sure how much stock he should put into the stories. There was always the possibility of exaggeration, overcompensation… and having seen Cloud’s sword, even wielded it a couple of times, Leon knew the blond was already inclined to overcompensation. “Why are you here anyway, what is it that you want?”

There was something about the tall, lean figure that was completely enchanting. No matter how many people had warned him away from this man, Leon still felt some small measure curiosity and perhaps even a yearning for contact with him. Sephiroth sprawled gracefully in the chair, his wings folding neatly around his body without a rustle. A single black feather fell from one of the wings, whispering to the floor and Leon couldn’t tear his eyes from it.

“Must I have a reason? My presence didn’t seem to bother you before.”

“You’re bored. That’s what this is,” Leon almost laughed. “Cloud isn’t around, so you’re bored.”

Sephiroth scowled, assuring Leon that he was at least partially correct. “Are you this rude to all of your guests?” he asked, matching Leon's earlier mild a tone.

Actually, he was not known for being polite. Whoever, or whatever Sephiroth was to know his name without having to be introduced, he obviously didn’t know much about Leon himself or his former persona of Squall Leonhart. “Only the special ones.”

Watching him for a long moment before he finally submitted to a chuckle – which was possibly the last reaction Leon had been expecting from the silver haired man, Sephiroth shifted into a more comfortable position. “Very well. I admit that I am a little restless. I wasn’t intending to show myself to you though; you’re more observant than most of your companions,” he spoke again. His voice was soft, each word deliberately chosen and pronounced with great care and attention. Coupled with his physical appearance it gave him an incredibly surreal air. Almost ghostly.

Aerith had implied that Sephiroth was a part of his friend. As much as he cared for and about Cloud, could Leon really believe that? That Sephiroth and Cloud were one being? It seemed incredible. Impossible.

Though who was he to judge what was incredible and impossible anymore? After all he’d seen, all he’d fought he was no longer sure of anything except his blade.

“So, what do you want?” Leon asked, dragging a hand through his hair. It was a nervous action, one he performed whenever his hands needed something to do. His hands never felt right when they weren’t doing something, be it holding his blade or rubbing the old scar on the bridge of his nose. He needed activity. Leon was no more cut out for a position of leadership than Squall Leonhart had been. No matter how well he could feign competence at the role, he was more suited to the field. More suited to the role of defending his friends, and his home. Even if he had failed.

Tapping one gloved finger on the side of his chin again thoughtfully, Sephiroth hummed. “Perhaps a sparring match,” he suggested. The hand that had been at his chin moved gracefully to gesture at the junction point on Leon’s hip, where his blade was hidden. “I must admit to being curious about that weapon.”

Leon frowned. Although he was probably risking his life to agree to such a proposal from the man before him, the offer was tempting. Whether it was the chance to prove himself against the villain in Cloud’s stories, or the chance to work out some of the kinks of tension in his aching muscles, he neither knew or particularly cared.

“Let’s go.”



********



The night sky was clear of clouds. The full moon hung low, casting a dim light across their chosen battleground. It still felt wrong to stand on the ground where so many heartless had died. That was why Leon had concentrated on the completion of the existing buildings first. He’d move further out when that was done and finished with.

A scattering of stars, distant worlds, glittered overhead. The air was cool and still, no breeze daring to stir the dust among the crumbling walls at the edge of the Radiant Garden. The delicate scents of Aerith’s flowers had not reached their locale, and there was a heart wrenchingly dead feel to the area.

A few walls still clung to amongst the rubble and the dry, dusty ground, reaching for the moon like broken gnarled fingers. Scraps of plaster and paint remained on their surfaces, bleached of colour to lingering ghosts in the moonlight.

Leon pulled his jacket a little tighter around him, the fur collar tickling the bare skin of his neck beneath his hair as he prepared himself for the coming battle. He’d lost count of the number of foes he had faced, the number of creatures he had decimated but each new fight still held a small thrill. The challenge presented to him now was the most appetizing he’d had in quite some time.

He lifted his head to ask whether Sephiroth was ready, only to see the deadly steel blade already swinging in a silver arc towards him. With barely an inch to spare, Leon drew his weapon and bought it up to block the wicked blade from cleaving him in two just in time. “I thought this was a sparring match,” he hissed, struggling to maintain his position with an intense pressure Sephiroth exerted on his blade.

“I always fight the same. I treat every fight as I would a war – didn’t Cloud tell you that?” Sephiroth chuckled, darting back to try another quick attack only to have his blade deflected at the last moment by the unusual weapon of his opponent once again.

Every thrust and slice that came Leon’s way did so with barely enough time to counter, barely enough time to even think of counter attacking. It was almost as if Sephiroth was indeed the perfect soldier that Cloud had spoken of; it seemed that there was no way for Leon to even dare to break through his defences.

Leon was still a patient man, however. Although he was almost sure he had no chance of stopping Sephiroth or defeating him, he was determined to find a hole in Sephiroth’s defences. Find a way to stagger Sephiroth just long enough to get a few licks in.

Sephiroth’s hard eyes were narrowed on him. Intense and ice cold, there was no compassion in them at all. Leon hardly dared breathe as the long blade swung up, cutting through the air barely an inch from his cheek – he could feel the breeze from the close proximity of the blade.

It took too long for Sephiroth to turn the blade to bring it back down, the weight giving the weapon too great a momentum to overcome easily. It was Leon’s first chance, and he took it.

Leon charged at Sephiroth, bowing low enough to drive to drive his shoulder into the taller man’s stomach hard. So hard in fact that Sephiroth fell back a handful of steps and gave Leon a second chance to attack, which he took just as eagerly, swinging his gunblade down as hard as he could manage.

The long blade of Sephiroth’s sword seemed to appear out of nowhere to block him from completing his attack. The sheer amount of force the taller, stronger man exerted on him in an attempt to push him back made Leon's wrists and shoulders ache.

A faint singing filled the air as the two weapons whined against each other.

With a single beat of the trio of black wings, Sephiroth jumped backwards, preparing himself to charge again. Lifting his sword into a ready stance with slow, precise movements, Sephiroth waited… and waited…

Then he charged Leon again.

It was the reach Sephiroth had that was leaving Leon so exposed to attack. As Sephiroth finally moved to attack him again, Leon backed up as quickly as he could but still not quickly enough to avoid his opponent completely – the steel bit shallowly into his cheek.

Hot blood spilled down Leon’s face but he didn’t pause to cure the small wound. There wasn’t time to even pull the spell and use it, not if he wanted to keep his head.

Knocking Sephiroth’s sword downwards, Leon darted to him, spinning as he moved and bringing the gunblade around in a circle. He didn’t have time to take his revenge and draw blood himself as Sephiroth’s wings beat again, lifting him up into the air and out of Leon’s reach.

Anyone else would have considered spitting the insult ‘coward’ after the retreating figure but Leon didn’t. Sephiroth was not being a coward. He was simply fighting to the very best of his abilities and Leon would not begrudge him any advantage.

Glancing back. Leon turned and ran for one of the walls. On the ground he had no shelter. On top of the wall – Leon jumped from a low pile of rubble with small clouds of dust whispering from his boot heels to land on a fairly high and stable wall that still stood upright.- he had a chance of avoiding the vicious swordsman at the last moment.

Sephiroth swooped down towards him, the moonlight catching along just the cutting edge of the long sword and scattering into star points as he moved. Leon had no time to stop him, no time to avoid the blow even despite the advantage of his position.

He tumbled backwards from the wall, landing on the rubble strewn ground below. His head struck a glancing blow on something sharp and it was enough to turn his vision black and skew his hearing if only for a moment.

Just as he was regaining some small measure of clarity he heard the now familiar melodic hum of the Masamune cutting through the air and he bought his own blade up just in time to protect himself.

Sephiroth laughed and took to the air again.

When Leon rolled to his feet, lifting a hand to the back of his head and gingerly pressed the point he’d struck it, he was surprised at both the amount of pain the touch evoked and the fact that Sephiroth was waiting for him to regain his bearings. He’d never have thought, having heard Cloud’s stories, that it would be possible.

Shaking his head one last time in an attempt to ward away the darkness lingering at the edges of his vision, Leon darted back to the wall and took up his previous position. His patience was only surpassed by his stubborn nature and he knew that if he only timed it right he would be the one to gain the advantage. After all, he could move more freely. He could dodge and counterattack where Sephiroth’s momentum would deny him even that much.

Nodding to Sephiroth just once to tell him that he was ready; Leon watched the silver haired figure swoop down towards him – a bird seeking its prey, a hunter out for blood.

This time the hunter did not find it. His blade swiped at only air as Leon ducked onto a lower section of the wall. Leon’s blade cut through the night – a dark arc of hardened steel and mysterious energy – and finally found its mark. It bit into the flesh of Sephiroth’s leg, again not a deep wound but enough to slow the taller man.

Sephiroth landed easily despite the wound, laughing. The sound was not a pleasant one. It made the hairs on the back of Leon’s neck stand up, and sent a shiver down his spine.

After a moment to gather his wits and prepare himself one last time, Leon launched himself from the wall.

Merely smiling, his sweet mouth curving up in the most wicked expression that Leon had ever been fortunate enough, or unfortunate enough, to witness, Sephiroth waited.

Leon wasn’t sure if he even saw the swing that relieved him of his blade, the force of the strike resonating along his bones so hard that the bile rose in his throat and his arms stung. The gunblade skidded to a halt in the dust a few feet away.

Sephiroth’s blade was at his throat, ice cold as it pressed against the pale skin. Leon steadied himself for a moment, waiting for the inevitable end to come – waiting for the blade to turn and cut him open as easily as the clichéd hot knife through butter. Not once did he flinch or pull away though, rubbing his wrists and hands briefly to ward away the worst of the aches and pains before letting them drop to his sides. His storm cloud gaze remained steady on his opponent and the victor of their brief but intense battle.

Perhaps things would have been different if he’d been able to last longer, just long enough to reach his limit break. But ifs and buts had no place on a battle field, nor did he have any time to regret it.

“Hm,” Sephiroth mused, lifting his arm just a fraction and yet enough for the moonlight to catch the blade in a silver white flare. It blinded Leon for a second. “You’re not bad. I didn’t expect to have to fight quite so hard.”

Scoffing softly, Leon resisted the urge to roll his eyes by the force of will alone. “That wasn’t fighting hard. You didn’t even break a sweat,” he replied, his voice remaining cool and unaffected even if his heart was thundering in his chest from exertion and perhaps even a little fear. Not that he’d ever admit to it aloud. Still he held his position, his eyes not even darting to the gunblade that lay so close at hand and yet to very far away. He didn’t doubt for a second that if he lunged for it he wouldn’t even make the meagre distance. He doubted he’d even be able to take one step towards the weapon.

This time Sephiroth didn’t speak. Instead he slid closer, letting the blunt side of the blade skim along Leon’s pale skin, pushing between the long strands of his hair.

When they were close enough, Sephiroth brushed the gloved fingers of his free hand over the old scar that cut down between Leon's blue grey eyes, canting his blade so that the cutting edge pressed against his jugular. “Where did you get this?” he asked softly.

Only the presence of the sword kept Leon from recoiling away from the tender touch. He hated anyone even acknowledging the old evidence of a life that had gone before. A fading reminder of fading memories. He couldn’t stop his eyes from flickering closed even despite the desperate need to keep them open, to keep watching Sephiroth.

With his eyes closed, he didn’t see Sephiroth’s hand move up to fist in the hair at the back of Leon’s head, though he gasped as the injury he’d taken only moments before throbbed into life again. His head spun, the pain flaring into life with every slight movement of his head that didn’t comply with Sephiroth’s wishes.

He didn’t see Sephiroth close the space between them to press a hard kiss to his lips either, even though he felt the force of Sephiroth’s stolen touch.

When Sephiroth kissed him – an intense severe kiss that was almost enough to bruise his lips – Leon whimpered in spite of himself. Trapped between the brutal touch of the blade and the hand that forced him to lift his head to welcome the kiss he had nowhere to go. No option but to permit the invasion of Sephiroth’s tongue into his mouth, to welcome the press of his lips as eagerly as he would a lover’s kiss.

Too late he realized that he was kissing back with just as much vicious passion as Sephiroth was demonstrating. Too late, he realized, that his body was responding just the same.

Without a word, Sephiroth broke the kiss to stare down at his captive prize, his wings curling around the tense form one after the other. Leon still made no attempt to move, standing motionless while glaring up at Sephiroth. He wasn’t sure whether he was glaring because Sephiroth had dared to kiss him, or because he had dared to stop.

As the final wing wrapped around him and everything went black. Leon felt the magic rise in the air around them and Sephiroth kissed him again as he cast his spell, silencing any cry of protest that Leon could muster.



********



When Sephiroth released him again, folding his wings behind himself, Leon stumbled away.

Gasping for breath, he glanced around in a half state of panic. Whatever spell the kiss and his own desire had placed on him, it had been broken as soon as Sephiroth had cast his spell.

With the acrid taste of consumed magic on his tongue, Leon didn’t even have to ask what had happened. Sephiroth had used some form of transportation spell, teleporting – for want of a better word – them away from their chosen battle ground to a small bedroom that he didn’t recognize. It was barely big enough to hold the large bed in the centre of it and the low stool to one side, let alone any other furniture but, facing the foot of the bed a huge circular window showed a view of only the star scattered black velvet of the night sky and the full, low moon.

Five candles stood in a cluster on the stool, no two the same height but all of them lit and casting a flickering light that danced over the wine and white covers on the bed. The bed was old, or at least looked that way, black iron twisted into ribbons at its head and foot peered from between the pillows and thick quilts. The walls could have been anywhere between white and butter coloured between the flickering candle light and the bleaching of the moon.

Leon scowled at the realization that he was going to be a prize of sorts for Sephiroth’s victory. With nowhere to run – he didn’t see a door, but there just had to be one somewhere – and with no weapons at hand he was at a loss as to what he was supposed to do. How hard he was supposed to fight.

When Sephiroth reached to pull him close again, Leon lashed out, catching the taller man’s chin with his gloved fist enough to snap his head to the side. To Leon’s surprise as he backed into the corner, bracing himself in readiness to fight again, Sephiroth laughed.

“To think I assumed all the fight left you when I took your blade,” he murmured, his eyes glittering in the light. A smirk that sent a shiver of desire, longing and yet fear down Leon’s spine curled his lips and he closed the gap between them, catching Leon’s wrists and pinning them to the wall above his head. “You look like a wounded lion, Squall. Your name now suits you better, I must say.”

“Whatever,” Leon spat a second before Sephiroth lifted his head to kiss him again, ignoring the use of his former persona’s name. He was unable to prevent the soft moan that bubbled from his throat as the taller man pressed the full length of his body to his own. The struggles Leon had been attempting ceased without his even realizing it – too enamoured of the lustful kiss to continue fighting.

Sephiroth released Leon’s hands long enough to strip him of his short jacket. He ignored Leon’s half hearted whimper of a plea for him to stop, leading him to the bed and pushing him back onto it. There was no hint of surety to Leon’s voice, no tone of seriousness – he was simply going through the motions of protesting,

With an ease of movement Leon had rarely seen in his bed partners, the taller man freed him of one of his belts then forced him further back onto the bed. “You want this,” Sephiroth said in a husky tone that made Leon’s blood feel like molten lava in his veins.

The firm touch of Sephiroth’s hand to against the hardness of his cock through the thin leather of his pants made him whimper with need.

“Say it.”

“No,” Leon hissed but complied when Sephiroth lifted his arms to the headboard to tie them in place with the liberated belt. It seemed so perverse to be longing for Sephiroth’s touch while his hands were being restrained. He did want the striking man. He couldn’t help that though distantly he wondered if the blow he’d taken to his head had anything to do with his wanting, no, needing Sephiroth so completely.

However, the stubborn streak that ran as deep as his courage prevented him from admitting to it.

Drawing one cool fingertip over the small expanse of Leon's belly that had been bared when his arms had been hauled up so unceremoniously, Sephiroth watched his prize struggling against the belt wound around his wrists. Taking his time over stripping before crawling over the prone brunet like a predator, Sephiroth admired the way his captive moved - arching up off the bed and tugging at his wrists in the most futile of efforts.

Sephiroth pushed Leon’s shirt up and out of the way, smoothing his hand over the hidden pale skin as he moved the thin cotton aside. Leon arched against his hand as he had against the thin air moments before. He was hungry for the touch, despite his earlier protestations but his eyes were still closed.

“No one will hear you here, you realize. You can scream as loud as you like and none of them will ever hear you,” Sephiroth smiled down at him, carnivorously

Somehow Leon didn’t feel as reassured as Sephiroth had seemed to assume he would. Opening his eyes to just slits of deep blue grey he watched as Sephiroth bowed his head and traced his tongue in a tight circle around Leon’s navel. What was left of Leon’s resolve faltered and his cock throbbed in the tight confines of his leather pants.

Fortunately, Sephiroth took pity on him and unfastened the remaining belts, along with Squall’s fly. He took a moment to admire the image he’d created before him - pale skin and hard muscles bared between black leather and white cotton, the chocolate brown of Leon’s hair tousled on the pillow, the hard arc of Leon’s cock, the proof of his desire, between the v of black leather and loose belts. Leon was incredible, but he’d have to be to catch and keep Sephiroth’s attention.

Leon continued to glare at him, throughout. Though he didn’t kick out at Sephiroth as the taller man peeled back his pants and tossed them to the side, he did consider it.

Sephiroth’s fingers, still cool and gentle, trailed along the inside of Leon’s thighs and brushed over his balls. He was being entirely too gentle and careful – and all of it was on purpose just to make Leon speak.

The slow movements were infuriating. Leon wanted to be touched properly, he wanted something real, not these insubstantial and ghostly caresses. He wanted as much passion and command as Sephiroth had shown in their short but intense battle, even if it meant…

Biting his lip briefly, Leon shifted against the bed. He could feel the belt already beginning to rub the skin of his wrists raw, the area around the black leather beginning to appear red and injured. He couldn’t keep struggling against the binding, a potion would clear the damage later but the deep bruises that he was causing would ache for days and prevent him from lifting his blade. If he ever managed to get away from Sephiroth, of course.

“Please,” he uttered at last, conceding to his desire. If he wanted anything – and his body was definitely aching for more – he was going to have to ask for it.

“Please?” Sephiroth asked, feigning innocence. He was toying with a small bottle. Lubricant, Leon guessed, but where and when the taller man had managed to get it, he had no idea. That long black jacket probably, it had moved from the side of the bed to a hook on the wall when Leon had been too busy thinking to pay attention. “What are you asking for, Leon?”

“Do… something. Touch me, fuck me.”

Wearing that same wicked expression that had sent shivers down Leon’s spine earlier, Sephiroth nodded.

His wings stretched and folded behind him with a whisper, catching Leon’s attention again. So pretty, the dark feathers gaining the faintest of green-blue shimmers where they caught the light, like a magpie’s plumage, Leon was enchanted by them. They seemed impossible, such large wings that Sephiroth moved as naturally and deftly as he moved his fingers but he’d touched them. He’d felt them and knew they were as real as Sephiroth.

Sephiroth obviously believed he’d toyed with Leon enough, or that the game he’d made of their ‘sparring match’ and the tying Leon to the bed was enough foreplay. It couldn’t have been the attempt at an order that Leon had made, even if it had sounded too much like a plea to the prone man’s ears to allow his pride to escape unwounded.

Sephiroth pressed one slick finger inside Leon’s body, rocking it deeper. While his touch was no longer gentle, it was not rough either. He was testing the reaction his touch invoked, blue eyes raking over his captive’s body as hungrily as Leon had looked at him.

Even if it had hurt, Leon thought, he wouldn’t have given the silver haired creature the satisfaction of hearing his cries. He had no doubt that any show of weakness to Sephiroth would be a flaw and a mistake that meant there would be no second chance at this.

A second finger slid into him, stretching him open. Rocking his hips to press back onto Sephiroth’s fingers, Leon moaned huskily. He wanted more. More than just fingers inside him and more than just once chance. The first desire was easier to deal with and for the moment he pushed the second one to the back of his mind. He hadn’t even felt Sephiroth once, how could he desire more already?

“Where are you going?” Sephiroth asked, tipping his head to the side curiously. Long silver strands of his hair slid from where he’d tucked it behind his ear and framed his face, long enough to be brushing his collar bone. “You’re thinking too much.”

“You’re not the first person to tell me that,” Leon managed, breathlessly. His voice broke as a third finger slid into him, and his temporary lover-cum-captor pressed against his prostate. When the colour returned to his vision and he could breathe again without crying out in pleasure, he continued. “And you certainly won’t be the last.”

“Then let me see if I can help you stop for the moment.”

Then Sephiroth’s fingers were gone. Leon whined softly until he felt the tip of Sephiroth’s cock press against his opening.

Lifting his head, Leon met Sephiroth’s gaze and held it. Although he was not a match for Sephiroth on the battle field without his limit break, he wouldn’t give up just yet. He’d match Sephiroth as they were if he could.

“Say it,” Sephiroth hissed.

“Fuck me,” Leon commanded.

The first thrust threatened to tear Leon apart, despite the preparation that Sephiroth had lavished on him. He gasped, not even given a chance to adjust to the hard length as it pushed inside him before Sephiroth was pulling back and thrusting into him again. Leon hadn’t expected it however, and he rocked his hips to encourage Sephiroth to keep moving.

Sephiroth paused when he was buried completely inside Leon’s body, bending down to kiss Leon just like he had on the field, with as much passion and intensity as he could muster. His tongue stole into Leon’s mouth, just for a moment but even a moment was long enough to steal Leon’s breath away just when he’d finally caught it again.

When he began to thrust into Leon’s body once more, he pulled the brunet’s legs up over his hips, squeezing the smaller man’s pale flesh. Seating Leon into his lap where he knelt between them, he forced Leon’s body to arch into just the right angle only allowing his shoulders to remain pressed to the mattress.

Leon cursed aloud the first time Sephiroth’s cock found that spot, his body shuddering and twisting against thin air. It felt incredible. Unreal. And if he didn’t know better, he would have assumed that he was dreaming but the pain in his wrists and head was enough to assure him he was not.

Twisting his hands in the belt to grip it and hold on, Leon lifted himself a bare inch from the bed. His body tensed in protest at the change but he ignored that just like the worrying need he’d discovered inside himself barely minutes before to wrap his legs tightly around Sephiroth’s waist, just below his wings. He ground against Sephiroth when the silver haired man paused long enough to smirk down at him and stretch his wings again.

Finally he released the belt and fell back to the bed.

Each thrust somehow seemed to go deeper and find a new sound of utter need and longing from Leon.

With his worries about the bruising long swamped by the pleasure that Sephiroth was giving him, Leon twisted his hands again and finally managed to free one of them to stretch up and touch one of the wings stretched around them both.

This time, Sephiroth did not pause. He somehow found the strength to thrust harder, smoothing his hands down Leon’s sides to grip his hips and pull the lithe body to meet his movements every time.

Closing his eyes and tightening his hands into fists, Leon cried out wordlessly. He came, breathing hard as his release coated his own stomach.

Distantly he realized that Sephiroth had come barely moments after him, with an inhuman and primal growl of pleasure.

Leon shivered against the covers as Sephiroth pulled out of him. He felt cold, suddenly, and he didn’t want to open his eyes or even consider moving just yet. He felt half afraid and half hopeful that the whole evening had been a dream, that when he opened his eyes he’d wake up in his own bed but his senses told him everything but that.

He could feel the sweat cooling on his skin and one of Sephiroth’s wings brushing against his bare thigh as the taller man moved up the bed. He could smell the faintly sulphurous scent of the candles and the leather of their clothing.

And he could still taste Sephiroth’s kisses on his lips. The heat and passion that Sephiroth had forced upon him.

With a heavy sigh, Leon finally opened his eyes to look at Sephiroth. He’d accidentally chosen the most opportune moment to do so, catching a glimpse of him with the light of the candles behind him and giving him an ethereal glow, his silver-white hair glowing like a halo.

“Hyne…,” Leon breathed.

Sephiroth looked down at him curiously. Absently he freed Leon’s still bound hand from the belt and tossed it aside.

“Nothing. It doesn’t matter.”

With a small shake of his head, Sephiroth stretched out at Leon’s side. He remained silent, watching as the brunet examined his wrists with a scowl.

Leon’s suspicions had been right all along. The damage caused to his wrists would leave them weak for a few days, too weak to risk picking up his weapon and it was mostly his own fault. Yes, Sephiroth had been the one to tie him up but Leon had been the one to fight the bonds formed by his own belt. If he’d waited, he would have been fine. So long as Sephiroth had let him go if he hadn’t struggled.

“So you weren’t just bored,” Leon stretched, keeping his voice as nonchalant as he could manage. He turned his head, watching Sephiroth as he stretched and rested a wing over Leon’s body. If Sephiroth was willing to share his wings in such a manner to keep Leon warm then Leon would be able to risk touching them again.

Brushing his fingers over the stretched wing, Leon watched the way the pale skin of his flesh slipped over the jet surface. As he traced along several feathers, one by one, he found himself enchanted almost to the point of forgetting that their owner was close at hand and had bested him on the battlefield less than an hour before hand.

In fact, he was so enchanted in his half asleep state that he forgot Sephiroth until the imposing man kissed his shoulder lightly.

Nearly jumping out of his skin, Leon covered his surprise by turning onto his side to face his bed partner.

“You don’t seem surprised by the wings,” Sephiroth said, cupping Leon’s cheek gently and brushing his thumb over Leon’s lower lip. His gaze flickered to the blue-grey eyes of his captive briefly before returning to Leon’s lips, the barely parted pink flesh that yielded so completely to his thumb. “Why is that?”

Leon wrapped his hand around Sephiroth’s wrist, coaxing him away from Leon’s mouth again. “Cloud told me about you. Didn’t I say that earlier?”

“Possibly. I must confess that I wasn’t listening all that attentively.”

With a scoff, Leon rolled his eyes again. The admittance didn’t surprise him in the least. Sephiroth had been quite distant until he’d proven himself worthy of some sport and some concession. He’d had to draw blood to prove himself worthy of even a kiss or Sephiroth would have taken him in the command room – gunblade at his throat or no gunblade at his throat.

Sephiroth pulled his hand from Leon’s grip, bowing his head delicately – how could he be so graceful and yet so powerful? How could he be so strong and yet have these wings that looked so fragile and delicate? – He kissed Leon again. It was not quite so fervent this time, not that it lacked in intensity. To the contrary, the brief touch only became hotter and more passionate as Sephiroth remained there, his tongue sliding against Leon’s.

A soft, strange sensation against his sex made Leon whimper into the kiss before he could even prevent himself from giving it.

Breaking away from Sephiroth, he resisted the urge to look down. Beneath the dark shadow of Sephiroth’s wing he wouldn’t be able to see anything anyway, but it seemed to be a sign of weakness to have to look and see whatever this sensation was without Sephiroth acknowledging it first.

Even though the touch was gentle, drawing up and down the length of his sex with languid movements, not taking the same path twice in succession, Leon still couldn’t help himself.

He reached down to stroke his hardening cock, discovering that the sensation had been caused by a feather held in Sephiroth’s finger tips. The realization of what it had been made him blush, his cheeks felt as though they were on fire and he was sure the other worlds would be able to see him if he moved to the window.

Still he kept his gaze locked with Sephiroth’s. Even as the taller man peeled Leon’s fingers away from his cock and returned the softness of the feather to it.

“Sephiroth…” Leon half growled. The caress of the feather was so slight and so gentle. Instead of giving him the fast, intense high of arousal, it was instead coaxing him erect, slowly but surely with A vaguely ticklish sensation that had him breathless before he knew it and desperate for more. He fisted a hand in Sephiroth's hair, desperately trying to just keep still and not thrust his hips in search of more sensation.

The silver haired man kissed him again “Sit up,” he ordered softly, trailing light little kisses along Leon's jaw to nip at his ear.

He had to obey, though it took him a good few minutes to drag himself away from Sephiroth's kisses and sit up and drag a hand through his hair. "Now what do you want?" he asked, the bitter tone to his voice beyond his control and harsher than he’d hoped it would sound. Leon ached with the days events already and if he'd trusted his location he would have slept.

Sephiroth waved a hand to silence him and shifted to kneel on the bed with unearthly graceful movements, pulling Leon with him. Leon complied with the hands that forced him to kneel over Sephiroth’s lap, and lean back against the muscular chest of the taller swordsman.

Sephiroth was warm. So warm that Leon thought the embrace would burn his pale skin.

The feather returned to its slow, teasing path up and down the length of his cock. Frustratingly slow and precise, Leon had to squeeze his hands on his thighs to prevent himself from brushing the ticklish, too light sensation and replacing it with something more substantial.

Finally, when his cock felt as hard as glass, Sephiroth seemed to take pity on him.

Circling one fingertip in the fluid that leaked from the tip of Leon’s cock, Sephiroth made a pleased hum of a noise. He bit into the flesh where Leon’s throat melted into the line of his shoulder, sucking at the flesh enough to mark it and send a shiver of incredible lust through his captive.

The same fingertip was then rubbed along Leon’s lower lip, tracing the shape of the pink flesh and pressing into his mouth. Leon couldn’t help but moan softly, his voice muffled as he sucked on the offered fingertip and rocked his hips to rub against Sephiroth’s hard sex.

From his position, Leon could see straight out of the window, the darkness of the night sky so complete and far reaching he felt as if he were on top of the world. No lights beyond the candles in the small room were visible, allowing the tiny points of light - each another world in the black depths of the night sky – to glitter with supernatural clarity. It was incredible.

“You’re thinking again,” Sephiroth husked, pulling his hair out of the way with one hand to kiss along his throat to the point just behind Leon’s ear that made him shiver.

“It’s a bad habit.”

Sephiroth laughed. “I’ll have to keep you from thinking, then,” he said, his voice almost a purr.

Then Sephiroth was coaxing him into kneeling again, his hands warm on Leon’s hips.

With a moment to slick himself again, Sephiroth positioned his sex against Leon’s opening and pushing just lightly enough to begin to enter the hot, willing body. He bowed his head, nuzzling just behind Leon’s ear and humming softly. He could wait all night.

Leon could not.

Half turning his head to watch Sephiroth out of the corner of his eye he managed to form just one word with his suddenly dry lips. “Please,” he gasped, sliding his hands over Sephiroth’s on his hips.

Freeing one of his hands from Leon’s grip, Sephiroth coaxed Leon into turning his head as much as his body and position would permit. Then Sephiroth kissed him. The first kiss was a soft, brief affair wrought from simple affection. Just enough to return the blush to Leon’s cheeks and have him gasp into the caress of their lips.

The second kiss was so much more. So intense it bruised their lips, as Sephiroth’s tongue stole into his mouth to coax those delicious moans from him again Leon shuddered. Drawn into the duel of his tongue against his lover’s, Leon clung to Sephiroth’s wrists. His head swam with pleasure as he felt the taller man pushing into him again, filling him again.

His body felt electric. Every nerve ending was alive and pulsing with energy and ecstasy.

With every rock of his hips, Sephiroth pushed a little deeper into him, muffling the sounds Leon was making with kisses while still matching them with his own moans of pleasure.

Breaking the kiss simply because he could no longer breathe nor think, Leon opened his eyes to watch but not see nor comprehend the infinite darkness of the night sky.

“Move.”

Nodding his ascent dully and shivering with need, Leon did as he was commanded. His body complained at each little shift yet yearned for the next spike of bliss, the pain and pleasure mixing until he could no longer tell - nor bring himself to care – where one ended and the other began. Though this time, Sephiroth’s lips were at his ear, kissing, nipping and tonguing him. The sensations were mere shadows compared to the sounds that he was making – he could hear everything. Every little hitch in his breath, every soft whimpered appreciation and every guttural moan.

Leon moved as best he could, Sephiroth cradling him and rocking to meet his thrusts eagerly, his movements becoming more and more fervent.

Sephiroth folded one wing around them both, permitting the hard arc of Leon’s cock to rub against the feathers.

A soft strangled cry escaped Leon at the alien sensation. The mix of texture, rough and smooth, of something brushing against the length of his sex took his breath away, It felt so wrong, so different that it couldn’t be right yet the wicked knowledge of what was causing it was such a tangible thrill that he almost came immediately.

No matter how wrong he should have thought it, Leon still placed a hand over the wing where it covered his stomach and held it in place for fear Sephiroth would withdraw it before he found his release. He still spread his legs a little wider, inviting more of the brutally tender touch.

“Move, Leon,” Sephiroth hissed into his ear again, biting the lobe almost savagely. His voice was almost desperate. “Come for me.”

It was something his conscious mind would later reel in horror at. The way he bucked between the intrusion of Sephiroth’s cock that seemed o fill him so completely he could barely breathe and the friction of the feathers was pure lust and desire. And he couldn’t stop. It was pure instinct and it felt right. Real.

This time when Leon came, his release coating the feathers of the black wing, he gasped Sephiroth’s name, as helpless against the cry as he was against the silver haired man on the battlefield, though this battle had been a much more pleasant one in which to surrender.

Sephiroth held him in place, bucking into him with rough, violent strokes. Then he was coming, digging his nails into Leon’s hips sharply enough to draw blood.

Exhausted, Leon collapsed back against Sephiroth again. Barely even able to summon the energy to keep awake, he let the taller man lie him back against the pillows again and cover him with the blankets rather than his wing this time.

Warm and sated, Leon didn’t even realize as he slipped into a deep and dreamless slumber.



********




He was awoken by an alarm.

Leon opened his eyes slowly, waiting for his vision to regain some clarity as he groped blindly for the clock to silence the cacophony of noise. As his hand found his target in the usual place, he frowned.

This wasn’t right. He was not supposed to be in his own bed.

He was supposed to be in Sephiroth’s.

Lifting his head, Leon confirmed his location. The ice blue walls, the Spartan pine coloured furniture waxed and polished smooth over time… It was his room alright, and Sephiroth was nowhere to be seen.

Sighing, Leon let his head fall back onto the pillow and rolled onto his side. His whole body ached with the previous night’s events, both the exertion of the sparring match and the events after it so he was sure that it had happened. That it couldn’t have been a dream.

Drawing the covers a little tighter around him, Leon curled up and resigned himself to a few more hours of sleep. Aerith would no doubt worry about him, maybe even send Cloud to investigate if he were around or Yuffie if she were feeling particularly cruel. At least she’d let him sleep as soon as she knew he was safe in his bed.

If he hadn’t felt quite so old – despite only being in his twenties – he’d have thought of her as motherly. Instead he’d settled for thinking on her as a rather fussy friend but at least she could make a decent cup of coffee.

Lifting one hand, Leon examined his wrist were the belt had bitten into his flesh and left its mark. Too deep for a potion for sure. He’d have to wear long sleeves for a few days to hide the damage. The flesh, turned black and blue with bruises clearly showed the lines his belt had taken – to both his shame and his pleasure. He enjoyed seeing it there. Proof of his night with Sephiroth. Proof of his battles.

Leon sat up suddenly, remembering his gunblade was somewhere out there and he had to retrieve it. Yet, to his surprise, someone had already set the weapon in the corner by the door. Someone would mention it later probably and he’d have to find an excuse for it being left out there but the knowledge that it was safe was enough for now.

Curling back beneath the covers, Leon stretched.

A single black feather lay on the pillow beside his head. It hadn’t been there only moments earlier. That he was sure of. So where could it have come from?

“Sephiroth?” he ventured softly, his voice cracking.

There was no answer.

With a heavy sigh, Leon closed his eyes, clutching the feather carefully in one hand. He wanted more. Sephiroth was worse than a drug.

Even if he was black and blue, he had to feel that again. He had to have Sephiroth again.

He just couldn’t see how.


AN: Complete.