Fire
Final Fantasy VII © SQUARE ENIX
Fire © fhclause
He felt her around him.
Soft. Warm. His skin tingled. He was close. So close. So close it choked him. Burned him.
To death.
He made a mistake. He should have killed her on the spot, when she showed up in front of his door—throw daggers at her—break her pretty neck—kick her out. Put a bullet between her eyes. He should have erased her existence from his life the day his heart suddenly pounded painfully in his chest; his fingers automatically crept towards his holster. He still wasn't sure whether the comfort he was seeking from Cerberus was to fight the nausea in his stomach or to shoot her dead.
But he wasn't allowed to think anymore when she dragged him out of his house to count the stars.
He can't breathe and struggled to get away. Far away from her. She was too close, her warmth burning him. He tried to claw his way out, but she caught his fingers and murmured promises in his ear. Like a bug trapped in a spider's web, the more he struggled, the harder for him to get away.
She was a drug. Poisonous. Revolting. Addicting.
He shoved her away. Reject her many times. Tell her his disapproval, so it hurt. Show her his disgust, so it hurt. And in retaliation, she drugged him. The more he hurt her, the more she drugged him.
Didn't she know there's a limit to every mortal?
Before the spider had her feast, she wrapped him in a cocoon of silk. As the last act of pity to ease her execution or to calm him down, he was beyond care at this stage. She would do what she wanted and he was powerless to stop her.
Sometimes he unconsciously sought for her. He noticed that. Everyone noticed that. He would indulge her then, paused at one point, and wondered why he bothered himself with her. Everyone would raise their eyebrow in interest or chuckled in amusement. When she noticed this one-sided hide and seek game, she looked up at him in disbelief. His heart clenched tight at the sight and tightened even more when she smiled a few seconds after that.
He felt her shifted on top of him and in the dim prison she created around them, he saw her smile. She brought her face closer to his and he saw the fire in her eyes. Closer and closer until he saw his eyes reflected in hers were burning too. Then his lips were sealed.
He told her he was fine. She told him he wasn't.
He had too much honour, too much pride, too much problem for him to take care of himself.
He said he can take care of himself before just fine. She said he slept in the coffin for thirty years and that wasn't fine.
And he wasn't fine. He was slipping. Not into that familiar deep, dark hole because that would be a better place to be next to his coffin. Didn't she understand that darkness and closed space was his lifeline? The darkness prevented him from looking at his monstrous self. The small space reminded him of his eerie body. He could dream a blind's man dream that way.
His lips scorched, his breath felt short. The fire trailed down to his neck, his chest, his stomach and further south. He writhed in pain, hand reaching out to constrain, whispered her name in vain. But it burned so much, he couldn't stand it. He pulled her closer, told her to smother the fire, called her name in a prayer.
A warm hand suddenly caressed his cheek. He didn't move—didn't even flinch until the warmth of her hand burned him. He raised his hand to remove hers, but another one came to rest on the other side of his face. He cupped both of her hands, knew that the coldness of his hands should burn her. His cold fire to her hot one. His fire freezes and control. No one likes to be frozen cold or controlled. She should be afraid.
He opened his eyes and melt.
When he thought death finally took him, he was jerked awake. No. Not yet. The fire was still burning. He was still alive. He looked down at her and saw her sat frozen between his legs. She was afraid. This was a new territory to her as much as it was to him. But he needed her fire, needed her to melt the coldness in his chest. So he pulled her close, murmured unknown promises into her ears, seek her warmth and tightened his hold when she cried.
The sun was shining so bright, it seemed like a cruel trick of nature for the people in the room. The moment Cid's Shera landed on Wutai, they were greeted by Staniv, one of the Pagoda Five Gods. They were then escorted by Chekhov. Shake opened the door for them and Gorkii offered them a nod and stepped away, revealing the figure they were looking for, standing on the balcony.
Yuffie turned around and shuffled closer to them. Her hair was adorned with flowers; the long, heavy white robe she wore flowed with every step. She stopped a foot away and offered them a smile. "Hey, guys. Glad you can make it. I was—"
Tifa lunged at her and hug her tight. Promptly, Yuffie broke into tears and the AVALANCHE members dispersed around them. Nanaki rubbed his head on Yuffie's knee. Barret was quietly weeping behind them. Cloud hung around, but close enough to show his remorse. Reeve was talking with a hushed tone with Gorkii and Cid put a comforting hand on Yuffie's shoulder.
Amidst the crowd, Vincent didn't move. He felt as if he was intruding something that was not his business. The news of Godo's death was too personal and too tender for him to offer any comfort. Before he could bolt out of the room, a pair of teary grey eyes looked at him. He immediately walked closer and raised his hand.
She took it.
It was burning hot, but the body beneath him shook. He knew his fire was starting to affect her, but he had to take more of her warmth. They were almost there. They were almost to the point of no return. His finger traced from her beautiful, long legs, to her stomach, to her breast and finally to her neck. He could snap this pretty, little neck and whatever torture she made him through all this time would end in no time. But instead, he cradled it in his hands and bit her.
She screamed.
It was almost a year after Yuffie had been crowned as the ruler of Wutai and the AVALANCHE, the Pagoda of Five—Four—Gods and the Wutai elders were celebrating her birthday. They were having a formal feast—Yuffie's way. That involved a lot of drinking, a lot of food and of course, a lot of Materia.
When they were gathered, seated and served, Yuffie put down her drink solemnly and announced, "I'm gonna get married."
There were gasps, bewildered silence, some cursing, a cup chattered on the floor and a choking sound to her left. Her friends were looking at each other to see if they heard her right while the Four Gods and the elders were exchanging looks. It seemed that this was the first time they heard about it too. Staniv were trying to regain his breath after swallowing a piece of food in the wrong way.
Cid jumped from his seat. "What the hell! Who? When?"
"I dunno. I haven't asked yet."
Tifa shook her head. "Haven't—Wait, Yuffie. What do you mean, you haven't asked yet?"
Yuffie grinned. "It means what it means. I haven't asked." She turned her eyes to far right of the room and smiled. "So, Vince. You wanna get married?"
Her fingers broke the skin behind his back, but he was burning so much—melting—he didn't notice. Didn't care. Her warmth was suddenly scalding hot and he reached and reached out to her until he broke his melting point. His head was pounding, his chest beating hard. He felt so alive; he couldn't stop the smile creeping up his lips.
Then darkness overtook him.
"Vince. Hey, Vinnie. Wake up."
Vincent grunted and turned his body to the other side.
"Oh, no you. You've slept for thirty years in a coffin; you will not turn away from me while you're sleeping. Hey, don't— You blanket thief! It's cold!"
He suddenly turned towards her and muffled her shriek by pulling her close. He covered them with the blanket. "Better?"
Yuffie tried to nod in his chest. "Are you okay?"
"I'm the one who should ask you that," he grumbled in her hair. "I did not hurt you that much, did I?"
Yuffie giggled. "Nah, I'm fine. I never knew you were that passionate, Vinnie. You even passed out after we—"
"Go to sleep, Yuffie."
"But—"
"Sleep."
She raised her head but he pushed it back into his chest before she could see his burning cheeks. Even when he tightened his hold, the bundle in his arms was still struggling. He sighed and let her go. She straightened up, observed her piece of work, grinned with satisfaction and settled in his arms again.
"Yuffie."
"Hmm?"
"Burn me some more."
An attempt to make this as poetic as possible. A smut-ish fic, I guess. Dunno if it goes well.
I apologized for any grammar mistake. Just finished this in the middle of the night. Need sleep. I'll proofread it later. Thanks for reading and kindly review ^v^