Disclaimer: Nope, I don't own a thing. Nothing whatsoever. I'm not affiliated with Square-Enix or with Advent Children or anything contained therein. Tada.
Authors Note(s): Blessed be the Yaoi Generator!
Hmm this is my first fic in this particular fandom and to be honest I think it's rather bad. I haven't written in a while, and I used to primarily write in the Lost Boys fandom. Go easy on me :
Elegance
Such elegance contained in this one...the allure of a cold-hearted General secreted away in his very DNA. Unlike the child-like and bumbling Loz, Yazoo is the essence of pure elegance, from his slender build down to the swift movements of the kill. Being the middle clone is seems that Yazoo has retained that old calm of Sephiroths, Rufus notes with a bit of whimsy, seated in his wheelchair whilst Kadaj mumbles on and on about Mother.
Odd how the other two have stepped back leaving Kadaj, who is clearly the youngest of the three SHM, to do whatever he wishes to. Could it be that Jenova has chosen this child to continue her legacy?
"Where is Mother, President?" Kadaj presses on, a crazed look in his Mako eyes and he repeats, and repeats, until only the pained sounds of Reno and Rude prompt Rufus to actually speak. It's merely luck that Rufus ShinRa is such a good actor, or else the game would be given away, and what a dangerous game it is.
Yazoo is the epitome of serenity, pale skinned doll that he is, not at all like his two brothers. Said two brothers who appear to be in deep conversation, whilst Rufus' two loyal Turks do their best to stay close and protect. Well, they're not doing all that well spread out in pain on the floor of the Lodge, now are they? Yazoo however, takes an innate interest in Rufus, head tilted to one side in a classic expression of curiosity. Curious of what, Rufus isn't entirely sure.
Yazoo moves like a fighter, with precision and elegance, not at all like the lumbering gait of Loz, or the impulsive quicksilver movements of Kadaj.
"Poor President. Does the Geostigma pain you?" On any other the low drawl would've sounded entirely too seductive, yet seduction is something that the President is very familiar with. Tilting his head to one side, face enshrouded. It's not good for the President to openly show fear…naturally. "Perhaps."
The faint scent of leather lingers and Yazoo kneels, in much the same manner that Kadaj had only moments earlier, in front of Rufus' wheelchair, an amused smirk present on his almost effeminate face. Gloved fingers slip up to caress the hand ailed by the Geostigma, examines it carefully, scrutinising, as if he had never seen the Planets punishment before in his life. "Mothers legacy." He murmurs, almost with reverence. "Isn't it beautiful, in a way?" Yazoo presses a kiss of marble to the bare skin of Rufus' hand, amused.
Rufus visibly flinches away from the touch, only amusing Yazoo further. The clone is cold to him, in more than just touch, and Rufus controls himself after his little slip up. Revealing to the SHM a weakness would be folly.
Yazoo however, just finds the situation far too amusing, and hell…when can a Sephiroth clone get a little fun? "Isn't it?" He repeats; face perhaps a little too close for comfort, so close that the scent of cow-hide is overwhelming. Or perhaps it is the mesmerising green of cat-like eyes that distract Rufus momentarily, for only a split second. But it is a split second none-the-less, and Yazoo takes full advantage.
In the future Rufus remembers what it was like to feel cool lips against his own, a sliver of a warm tongue and a smug look on the face of Yazoo. A kiss that had promised cruelty and elegance wrapped up in one nice, neat, little package.