Disclaimer: Knowing what I'd do if I did own it, it's a good thing I don't.
There is no excuse for this. I blame RyutheHanyou because she wouldn't stop bothering me until I wrote GrimoireXHojo. This is for you sweetie, please stop bothering me about it. I probably ought to be shot for this.
Valentine; now there was a name he never thought he would ever hear again, not that he ever wanted to mind you.
The Bastard, encouraging the girl to indulge in her fool headed delusions, a paleontologist to boot, not even a proper scientist with his mind-rotting inane talk of morality and other such bull shit.
Valentine was one man Hojo did NOT want to hear about, but now that bastard's son was here.
He and some other Turk-dog, whose name he hadn't been bothered to listen to, had been charged with guarding the mansion and its personnel.
Guarding, spent more time just strutting around acting like they owned the bloody place.
It was rather sickening actually. One of the dogs was behaving like a love-sick puppy over the girl. It left him feeling rather disgusted, more so at the idea that once upon a time that had been him, albeit not for the girl.
Hate you, Love you
He gave up, he wasn't going to get any work done until these thought of Valentine were out of his head. Stale memories he had long since pushed to the back of his mind kept bubbling up, distracting him, making his pants feel tighter than they should.
Much like the old days where thoughts of that man devoured all others; tainting and corrupting his mind like a virus. He remembered the time and he remembered how much he had hated the man for it.
Love you, Hate you.
He tossed the document aside not particularly caring where it landed; it was blank anyway.
Normally he would never even consider consciously engaging in such frivolous activities, but right now it was somewhat necessary.
He mentally cursed for reduced to things like this, he was older now, not some love-struck whelp, he should have more self control than this.
Want you, Have you.
The labs were thankfully empty; from there it was all too easy to release his mind to the sea of memories.
Clumsy, sticky fumblings in the back of a car.
Whispered promises and skilled fingers leaving him writhing on the desk.
Stubble scratching his face and red eyes that meant the world.
All those times that had been brought to an end.
All those times that no longer shared the same meaning and seemed so idiotic and filthy now.
Have you, Want you.
Long, elegant fingers made short work of buttons and zips, quickly granting access to the infernal piece of anatomy that refused to let him work.
He hissed slightly as cold hands made contact with heated flesh.
It was a simple matter of pleasure, almost mechanical movements of hands that knew their part better than their owner.
Brown eyes staring at the ceiling but not seeing it, phantom hands running over his body providing pleasure although they did not exist, he was lost completely to a memory now; and he didn't give a damn in the slightest.
Love you, Hate you.
All he saw was Grimoire, the name repeating in his mind.
With fingers entwined in shaggy black hair and red eyes looking in to his own, with an empty whisper of 'I love you'.
Being bent over a desk and fucked till up was down and he didn't give a damn.
Long hair became short and features more youthful.
A different name echoed in his mind.
White hot pleasure coiled in his gut and spattered his release onto his stomach and chest.
Kill you.
'Vincent'
The filthy mongrel TURK?
The sickness of his mind in which to love is to hate, both one in the same.
He wouldn't fall sick a second time.
The puppy would have to die.
Just like daddy dearest.
A/N: You all know I probably enjoyed this more than I'm willing to admit. Reviews will make me write more in general but I would love to see more of this as a pairing in the future. Yes I'm a sick fuck, but what are you going to do?