The Cost of Redemption

By: Phoenix Dayze

(Zack/Sephiroth)

NC-17

Disclaimer: I do not own Final Fantasy VII or its characters. This never happened, and we wouldn't want it to. This is just random darkness from my imagination.

Sephiroth hissed as Zack penetrated him with a burning pain. His hands groped the side of the couch and his head fell down to rest against the cushions, willing the pain to pass as Zack continued to breech him. It was no more than he deserved. Cloud was gone. He wanted to hurt. Wanted to be violated, desecrated, humiliated. He wanted Zack to kill him. But Zack had patched the truth of what had happened, piecing it together from the little that Cloud had told him, and he knew that Sephiroth wasn't truly to blame. And so Sephiroth was on his knees, letting Zack pound remorse into his body. He took him with angry, bitter strokes, motivated by the pain and loss they both felt.

This is what it had come down to. In the weeks following Cloud's death, they had run through every possible array of emotions, and reacted to each other in the most volatile of ways. This was the only solution that satisfied them both. Sephiroth got to experience a little bit of what he'd done to Cloud, and Zack got to extract a form of revenge on the man who had taken him away. It was hard and messy and cruel, the way both men needed it, and Sephiroth knew that he would never be able to give enough to atone for what he'd done. Whenever Zack harshly marked his body, Cloud's pale, too still face would rise before his eyes, and he would stare, unflinching, at the carnage of the young soul he'd destroyed, the soft voice echoing forever in his mind. I've no reason to fear you, have I? Then he would ask Zack to take him harder, to scratch him deeper, to bruise him with the hands that should have been loving Cloud.

And when Zack wasn't there… Sephiroth had taken to hurting himself. He had discovered through the weight of sheer necessity, that there were more than a few household items that, when wielded properly, could cause enough pain to levitate even the most suffocating emotional turmoil. His self-inflicted scars were beginning to outnumber the ones he'd received in battle. Zack never commented on these marks, and Sephiroth knew from his silent indifference that he truly didn't care. It wasn't Zack's job to watch out for the welfare of the General's body during peace time, and he wasn't about to make it so. He was there solely to bring Sephiroth physical suffering through rough, masochistic couplings, and in the process ease his own unending, cataclysmic urges. Sephiroth's life had been reduced to nothing more than a series of blurry moments leading up to the next meeting with Zack.

Sephiroth gasped as Zack imbedded his teeth in his shoulder blade, showing no mercy. He could feel the blood rising to the surface and ebbing through his skin against Zack's torturous mouth, and with it, his guilt-induced arousal thickened to an aching tightness, his need fed by the ruthless pain that Zack was steadily inflicting upon him. He clenched his hands harder in the cushions, his mouth drawn up into a snarl as Zack's fierce pummeling became sharp and erratic, as it always did when Zack was close to finding his abusive release. Sephiroth could feel the answering thrill in his own body. With one hand, he reached down and squeezed the head of his sex so tightly that he bit his lip against the pain. The pain he felt, the marks he bore—those were the only pleasure he would allow himself to come away with. He wouldn't let himself achieve satisfaction, no matter what it cost him. He hadn't allowed Cloud the luxury of release when he'd raped the boy. His memories of that moment had become very clear over time. He'd simply taken, and now, self-denial was all he could do in recompense. This was the other reason that Sephiroth always allowed Zack to be in control. That… and the constant reminder that the last body he'd entered… had been Cloud's. The screams tormented his soul, and only his own answering grunts of pain could make them fade. He would never touch Zack. All the times they'd been together, the times they'd sought comfort in each other's presence, Sephiroth had never laid a hand on him. He'd simply let Zack do as he willed and had taken it gratefully. He'd never faced him, never fucked him. And they'd never kissed.

Sephiroth often found himself wishing that he'd taken a moment amidst the madness to kiss Cloud. He would have liked to have kissed him once, even if it would have had to have been stolen, ripped from the boy's lips as he cried against the harsh using of his body. He couldn't help thinking that maybe if he'd approached Cloud to begin with, despite the young man's age, that perhaps none of this would have happened. But it was too late now. Hindsight was just another device used to torture himself. Cloud's incredible mouth would never kiss anyone now, least of all him.

Zack gave one hard, final thrust and came forcefully as he fell away from Sephiroth's body. He leaned against the couch, his knees drawn up to his chest. And he cried. Hot tears branded his naked flesh. Tears for what he'd lost, for what he'd done, for what he could never change. Sephiroth watched in stoic silence as he allowed his body to recede from its anticlimactic high. Zack always cried after. From guilt, from sorrow… it didn't matter. He missed Cloud. He still loved him. Let Zack cry. Sephiroth couldn't cry anymore. He didn't have the right. It seemed to him that his tears would corrupt the honest, heartfelt goodness that poured from Zack's soul. Feelings of lost love and hopes and dreams—feelings that Zack had every right to languish. Tears were the reward for friends, family, and lovers. Sephiroth had been none of these. Zack would have to cry enough for the three of them.

Images ran through his head. Cloud pressed up against the headboard. Cloud wearing his clothes with the hems rolled up. Cloud's haunting ghost of a smile. Cloud slowly fading into a sleep from which he would never rise… Sephiroth squeezed his eyes shut against the torrent, his heart pounding in his ears. "Forgive me, Cloud." He whispered, his voice low and hoarse.

A jolt of sick pleasure flared through him as Zack's hand tangled in a twisted mass of his silver hair, wrenching his head back painfully. He was forced to meet Zack's eyes, which were flashing with the hurt of Sephiroth's stinging words. "Don't ever say his name!" Zack growled. "Ever!"

Sephiroth peered up at him, daring him with a cool green stare. "Cloud forgave me. When will you?"

Zack's chest heaved up and down as he fought against his anger, the hand tightening in Sephiroth's hair. Then, he slung his arm free, backing away from him as though Sephiroth wasn't worth the trouble. He licked his lips and another tear slid down his cheek. "Yes." Zack whispered. "He did forgive you." His voice was rough and laden with sorrow. "He forgave you for beating him. He forgave you for… for raping him." Zack's eyes were pools of grief. "But when was the last time the two of you discussed his murder?" A smothering wave of guilt and regret crushed against Sephiroth as Zack's words struck home. "Do you think he forgave you for that?... you sick fucking bastard!"

"I…" Sephiroth's internal anguish overwhelmed the aching of his body as he rose to his feet. "I don't know." He answered honestly. "But I haven't forgiven myself. Does that mean anything?" It seemed an impossible thing to ask, but Sephiroth needed Zack's forgiveness as much as Cloud's, but it would probably be much harder to attain.

Zack pulled his clothes on in silence. And Sephiroth just watched him go. Just once he'd like to sit down and actually talk about what had happened, how it had changed them. But Zack wasn't ready to face any of those things. Acceptance was a more destructive lover than he was. The door swung open and Zack seemed to hover in the doorway. "Zack," The dark head inclined in his direction. "Cloud was lucky to have you." He could see all of Zack's muscles tense. "I… I'm sorry." Silence was the only acknowledgement he got. Then, a brief nod. And Zack was gone.

Tbc…