Arrogance, greed, and cruelty were three words that embodied Rufus ShinRa. After the cruel death of his father, he was immediately named President of his father's company. During the ceremony, the young president showed absolutely no emotions, just coldly ordered his subordinates to not call him President ShinRa, but rather President Rufus. Resentment towards his father was obvious in the renunciation of his father's name, but that sprung from reason no one else knew about. The late President ShinRa was a curse to any child, and certainly not a caring and nurturing father. During his upbringing Rufus had very little contact with his father and was brought up to take over the company and handle a large business with an iron fist. Rufus's successes were rewarded with demands for more, and his failures brought about mockery and detestation from his father.
Rufus's father was a firm believer in ruling people through money and false promises of protection, but his successor chose to rule through fear. Rufus had many times stated that even though his father's way worked, he had his own plans, which did not include wasting money on the people and cared very little for the people's well-being. Rufus shaped the company into his own design with high efficiency and once the company prospered, he used the power to once again search for the Promised Land and Sephiroth. He had previously, over a decade ago, been unsuccessful in his pursuit of the late General, although he had the remains of Jenova in his possession until the final battle when Kadaj merged with it. Kadaj, along with a resurrected but bleak Sephiroth had been defeated and the world began changing.
However, the future had come to play into the hands of this greedy leader as Rufus revived his merciless quest to find the portal to the world of the dead to seek out Sephiroth in the cradle of hell. No rest, even for the fallen. Rufus had shed his last tears as a child at the age of ten, after which nothing else was ever shimmering in his eyes. But Rufus ShinRa also possessed a depth not many had ever witnessed. On the surface he was like a rock, whilst inside he harbored beautiful crystals of treasured personality, like a plain grey stone could reveal its amethyst cave inside. But just as the amethyst, Rufus was hollow. He never let anything stand in the way of getting what he wanted and he showed no mercy or fear. Not until now.
Rufus ShinRa was at his grand mansion. It was night out and he had accomplished a lot at work and was treating himself to an early night at home. The winds were howling outside, trees branches were creaking and bending to the limit of almost breaking. The blond, proud man sat in front of his fireplace reading and listening to Nature's chorus when a sudden feeling of anguish hit him. Was it the flickering, orange fire that induced that sensation of abandonment, or was it the romantic ghostliness of the storm whistling through the windows? He stood up and left the book in the armchair. When these feelings came over him, there was no other choice but to take a stroll and clear his mind. It was something within the blond that broke through at these times and he always made sure to hide from the world when it happened. The trembling hands, the cold rushing through his skin and leaving him covered in ice, the heart that hammered against his ribs, and the breath that never seemed to satisfy the screaming lungs. Oh yes, Rufus ShinRa had his weakness too, and he was now standing in front of it. In the wing facing the sun when rising beyond the mountains, a room had been specially decorated and designed for the treasure it kept hidden from the world. Rufus looked at his most prized possession; the missing piece of his heart.
The oval room was warm. Large, arched windows were dressed in thin curtains of white silk and the ceiling was made out of a glass dome to allow the starlight to pour down on the white body resting on a pedestal. It was a marvellous being of pure perfection and each time Rufus cast eyes on it, his fortress crumbled and his will slipped like sand to the tide. The pale creature looked like a marble statue on the pedestal, resting peacefully on his back with one hand placed over his chest. A quilt of red velvet covered the naked body and kept it warm whilst the seraph was submerged in hibernation. Rufus walked up to the beautiful, resting man whose hair had turned to grey, skin almost fluorescently white and the veins pulsating with sluggish waves through a blue mesh that covered the body. Rufus lit some nearby candelabras and relished the gracefulness of the angel as he, with tentative efforts, removed the velvet quilt from the body. His breathing was increasing and heart nearly bursting through his chest as galloping emotions took hold of his composure and annihilated it.
"A kiss, just one kiss."
The blond leader was trembling with desire, yet with fear of what might happen if he allowed himself to drift into his wants.
"Just one kiss," he whispered and pressed his lips against the icy feet of the sleeping obsession.
He held the feet a long time and from his position there, Rufus scrutinized the body before him like he had done so many times since he found it in a deserted cave past the glaciers up north. He remembered the time when he was a young teenager and saw the Jenova spawns in all their past glory. They were all so striking and powerful, but there was one that stood out; one that captured the eyes of a young man in admiration of a fearsome Soldier. He remembered the rebellious attitude, the arrogance, the hunger for power and the stinging sense of humor. It was all the features he also recognized within himself. The difference was that this angel was in addition, a celebration of beauty. Being ridiculed by his father for so long for his failures, Rufus had kept his secret desire hidden from the world. The lust that spellbound him each time he cast a glance at Genesis.
The red, fiery hair…
Rufus moved up to the head of the pedestal, hands running through the grey hair that had lost its color a long time back.
The symmetrical lips that often spewed defiance.
Something invisible pulled him closer; just to take a closer glance.
Those tender lips that could smile so angelically.
His breath was bouncing back from the surface of Genesis' face.
Those warm lips that once blessed him with chosen sections out of Loveless.
The kiss carried the innocence of a child, yet it was delivered with the outmost passion a man could exude. Rufus cupped his warm hands around the jaws of the sleeping angel, thumbs gingerly caressing cheeks as the kiss lasted for an eternity. The blond felt his entire being come alive and the skin that often stayed immune to a gentle touch was now burning with desire and wherever the clothes brushed against his body, the sensations were amplified like little impulses of craving. With great effort, Rufus managed to tear himself from kissing Genesis and backed away, panting with fatigue.
"I hate you," he whispered as he staggered backwards, almost tripping over his own feet.
Rufus stumbled over to the doorway, ripping it open, but then he halted when defeated by his own desire.
"I hate you, you bastard," he panted and slammed his fist against the architrave, for he knew he wouldn't be able to return to his own room tonight.
Slowly, the blond turned around, brushing the fringe from his sweaty forehead as he closed the door and leaned against it, watching the evening sky. A dark quilt of hostile clouds covered the night sky; the stars were hidden, as well as, the moon. Genesis had nothing to look at this night. No twinkling little diamonds or basking, white light kept him company and Rufus decided he would make that sacrifice of being the only source of warmth to the red angel. With an insecure shadow of a smile on his lips, Rufus walked once again up to the plinth, eyes steadily resting on the white body. His dressing gown dropped to the floor and with arms wrapped around his shaking body, a young beast approached the angel like a sinner before a saint. Rufus had remembered every word written in Loveless and with each step that carried him closer, he quoted the poem as a declaration of pure love. It was the only love he knew how to give.
When the war of the beasts brings about the world's end
The goddess descends from the sky
Wings of light and dark spread afar
She guides us to bliss, her gift everlasting
He watched the angel and softly caressed the hand resting on the chest.
Infinite in mystery is the gift of the goddess
We seek it thus, and take it to the sky
Ripples form on the water's surface
The wandering soul knows no rest.
Hands traced the motionless chest.
The infinite mystery
The gift of the goddess is what the three men seek
But their fates are scattered by war
One becomes a hero, one wanders the land
And the last is taken prisoner
But the three are still bound by a solemn oath
To seek the answer together, once again
Fingertips searched for the delicate spots of pleasure he knew could only be felt in his imagination, yet he still yearned to give it to the angel.
There is no hate, only joy
For you are beloved by the goddess
Hero of the dawn, Healer of worlds
Dreams of the morrow hath the shattered soul
Pride is lost
Wings stripped away, the end is nigh
His palms were aching to discover the journey before him.
Though the prisoner escapes, he is gravely wounded
His life is saved, however
By a woman of the opposing nation
He begins a life of seclusion with her
Which seems to hold the promise of eternal bliss
But as happiness grows, so does guilt
Of not fulfilling the oath to his friends
Eyes caressing the flawless skin and indulging in every little curve of the muscles brought out against the orange, flickering glow of the candles.
My friend, do you fly away now?
To a world that abhors you and I?
All that awaits you is a sombre morrow
No matter where the winds may blow
My friend, your desire
Is the bringer of life, the gift of the Goddess
Even if the morrow is barren of promises
Nothing shall forestall my return
Tongue shyly wetted swollen lips of desire; a mouth endearingly making love to a fantasy.
As the war sends the world hurtling towards destruction
The prisoner departs with his newfound love
And embarks on a new journey
He is guided by hope that the gift will bring bliss
And the oath that he swore to his friends
Though no oath is shared between the lovers
In their hearts they know they will meet again
With cautious movements, almost as in fear of awakening the slumbering Seraph, Rufus lay down next to the icy statue.
My friend, the fates are cruel
There are no dreams, no honor remains
The arrow has left the bow of the Goddess
My soul, corrupted by vengeance
Hath endured torment, to find the end of the journey
In my own salvation
And your eternal slumber
Legend shall speak
Of sacrifice at world's end
The wind sails over the water's surface
Quietly, but surely
An arm coiled around a toned waist and pulled the source of fever near the lifeless body, telling an altered version of his most heartfelt act and sealing the last words with a kiss.
Three friends go into battle
One is captured,
One flies away,
The one that is left becomes a hero.
If we were to enact it,
Would I be the one to play the hero,
My Soul corrupted by vengeance,
Hath endures torment,
To find the end of the journey in my own salvation.
And Your eternal slumber… my beloved Genesis.
The storm quieted down, the night became still and the starlight broke through the clouds. With arms and legs wrapped around the sleeping angel, Rufus drifted into a world of pain and his only anchor to sanity was the savior he held onto when the world came crashing down and the daemons of the past haunted him.
Despite the silence, there was a storm raging beneath Rufus. He was unaware that his quaint confessions were heard; a prayer of deliverance, but the saint was bound and crippled. Genesis lay on the decorated marble plinth, the red velvet resting over his body. His muscles had grown lifeless as the human in him died, but the essence from his ancient heritage as the spawn of Jenova, kept him lingering on in this world like a living dead. He couldn't move a limb, skin white as milk and almost merging with the pedestal he was resting on, not too unlike a young god slumbering, but his mind was vivid. His senses were keen and vibrating. He could heed every message captured in emotions, smell each fragrance brushing past him in the air, and felt every sensation blessing his tired statue. It was a curse unlike any other; to be trapped in a slowly withering body with a vigorous mind that was fully aware of the dawdling Death awaiting him. There were so many things going through his head, so many years of memories and thoughts, and so much regret. But it was too late to dwell on it, for nothing could be done.
He had spent years in solitude in a forgotten cave, and equally many in the presence of a man who had cared for him altruistically; living off the reminiscence of a past beauty who had turned into a slumbering daemon carrying only traces of the angel he still harbored inside. To hear the poem of Loveless cited again, was the most soothing balm to Genesis' soul. For that, he was forever thankful to Rufus ShinRa. It was the only thing that kept his mind tranquil. The poem Loveless; the verses that reflected his yearning was so similar to the book of his own life. He drifted into the past remembering the pages of the Book he had always been too afraid to scrutinize; his passing days and desires, finally divided on the blade of a katana. An open wound to the core of his soul, which was now there for all to see as the Sections of the years unfolded. He saw the sorrow like a puzzle he never understood, blindly fumbling to find his way through a maze of emotions. He saw himself at a distance in a shape, which was so much different from what he was now, and thus in the seclusion of his closed body, he forced himself to remember the words of his life to piece together the person he once was outside this prison of dying flesh.
His mind embraced all the promises broken, felt the aftertaste of angry words when he should have mourned. In this book, he harbored a chapter on secrets, words of confessions never seeing the light of day. When his heart was cold and resistant to desire the words on loss was written and a ghost was born within, refusing to die or to let him find peace. He dove into the depth of his own mind, trying to recall the sections on love where the ink was still wet and smudged beyond recognition. In the chapter on his beliefs he couldn't remember whom he had ever dared to reach for and who the Goddess was that rejected his presence when he turned into a monster.
As the stars moved the Universe towards the pages of entropy, they wandered into the past with increasing pace, never to be seen again. He saw many pages on conflicts scattered about and written in the shape of infernal black holes that in a maelstrom of fire swallowed stardust and crushed the essence out of life-giving stars; all those people he defeated and whose pleas he had never heard. He recalled the battles with his peers, his bitter defeat on the pages where they failed to reconcile and the fruit of life, the Banora apple, which was denied by Sephiroth and brought nothing but frailty to an alien body. A castle not meant to last. There were also tales of a Promised Land that forever remained a mystery.
With his eyelids closed for more than a decade, his senses had sharpened and many things unseen by the open eyes were revealed with clarity and his mind reached higher than his desires for power. Genesis finally realized that the Pages of his life flowed in one direction but with an unknown ending, for he was neither alive nor dead. From the heat trickling down his skin, he could sense the daylight returning. Shedding light on his broken life, causing these bitter pages to burn until all that was left was the one thing that could fill his empty, consuming heart. At times he would lock himself inside his own mind, lose touch with reality and allow the imagination to set adrift on its own. Someplace where he was alive and could feel, someplace warm, someplace dangerous… someplace… bewildering. A place he didn't know existed within, but had become his safe Haven and debauched playground;
Genesis felt the itch from the riveted collar as sweat was trapped close to his rubbed, tender skin. It was a decorative feature on his pale neck, but also a clear sign of dominance and ownership. Acknowledging that Genesis was all but a delicate, little dove, metal shackles on arms and legs, linked to heavy chains, fettered the angel against the wall. To increase the suspense in his games of dominance and power, Rufus had allowed for some freedom of movement, but it was limited to only a few steps from the wall. Genesis was filled with resentment; not toward Rufus ShinRa, but toward himself, toward the undeniable fact that he was so obviously and easily aroused by this illicit moment. He bathed in shame knowing that each time Rufus entered the room, his heart rejoiced with anticipation of those amorous moments he hoped to come. During their union he could hardly hear anything from the world surrounding him, only the pleasured moans of Rufus ShinRa filling his head; those kissable lips parting to receive a fervent offering at the moment of spilled ecstasy. Genesis swallowed hard and tried to shake those images out of his head; those tantalizing moments of a simultaneous orgasm that only Rufus managed to lure out of his body.
The blond would approach him with burning desire exuding through his shimmering eyes. Rufus was a man trapped in his own bitterness for so long his soul had turned to the same stone-like feature as Genesis' body. They were the opposites, halves that had what the other needed. And together they were whole. Oh what blissful moments of elation, as Rufus pulled the collar to receive and abuse Genesis' wanting lips. The hands that gingerly glided over the firm chest, nipples surrendering to the determined pinch that filled him with desire; making his shaft reach towards the master whose endearing mouth swallowed it to prepare him for the game that Genesis' body had not felt in decades. Union with another partner had been a luxury he never allowed himself to have. He was just like the rest of the Jenova spawn; graceful fiends, sculpted in starving bodies.
The commands of Rufus ShinRa still echoed in his ears as Genesis was asked to spread his legs to expose the swollen genitals that fit so perfectly into that sucking mouth, the tight portal that received an intruding finger. It was so foreign to him, so strange and felt so deliciously dirty. To feel the slightly cool digit searching, probing and stimulating very little inch inside him, whilst lips captured the foreskin and stretched it slightly, the teeth nibbling on the glans with tongue coiling around the shaft, and the very tip following the contours of the edge of the head and digging forcefully into the tiny slit. It wasn't unusual that this was often enough to make Genesis spend, make him whimper and stomach quiver with delight, when he lost control and surrendered his will to ShinRa. He had always possessed presence. It wasn't something he was taught, some ostentatious, adolescent behavior to make a statement; Genesis was genuine and always in control of his emotions. Except now. He was screaming inside each time Rufus ShinRa distanced himself, leaving for the night.
The ropes, the leather, the commands and the lasting sting from those strong fingers, were just vivid fantasies torturing him when the lights went out and the curtains dropped. It was all but a dream. His lover took a bow and left the yearning body to cool in the night. Rufus' heat was absorbed by the aching skin; seemingly dead to the world but the spirit within was drinking every little impulse delivered through that erotic playfulness. Genesis' pale body rested on the pedestal like a marble statue next to which the fervent lover snuggled up, wrapping arms around the waist and rubbing hips against the frozen features of the beauty. He had to endure the painful confessions of an idolizing young man in his late twenties, who had adored him for over a decade and the secret desires he harbored toward a man who never paid attention. Well, Genesis paid attention now. He wanted to give back all that he received from ShinRa but it was too late. It was over a decade too late.
He screamed with desperation when the fingers gingerly danced over his frozen skin, spoke soundless words of ardor as lips cosseted his face with burning kisses, and wept with abandonment when hot essence trickled down his body unable to reveal his mutual feelings. He wanted to express wanting in filthy little packages delivered to the receiver as "Push harder", "Fill me" … "Release me"… "Deliver me"… … "Set me free" … … … "Make me yours!"
But all the words were empty and silent, no matter how loud they echoed in his head. And when Rufus left a blanket of cool air to settle over the stale frame, Genesis roared out with frustration and anger, announcing his pain to the deaf world. No one heard him, and Rufus closed the door, leaving Genesis drowning in fantasies to relieve the desire that boiled in his locked body. He was neither dead nor alive; his body was his pod and prison.