The Flame of You

by Kittie Darkhart

Yuffie begins a relentless journey to find Reno. Along the way, she meets up with a former Avalanche member ahem, Vincent. Can she be true to her infatuation with Reno or does she love someone else?

18. And Thus, I Give Into Thee, Dark Angel

Disclaimer: I do not own Final Fantasy VII, characters, places, etc. All rights belong to Square and their respected owners.

Author's Note: This chapter contains some adult themes. Meaning, it's a bit citric, key-lime to be more exact--nothing too revealing. But please, if this subject offends you, wait until I post the next chapter! Thanks! ^_^

The Flame of You

Chapter 18

Her cerulean gaze skimmed over the room. Every table, every window, right down to the wallpaper decorations, held an elegant aura. Truthfully, the young heiress was no less than astonished to encounter such luxurious taste. Gods, everything within this lavish room cried superlative dominance. Something--in which--she was not, nor would ever hope to be.

Looking down, she noticed Vincent's claw enclosed around her tiny hand. Even though he could not feel her nervous shudder, he inwardly knew what her sentiments were about this room. And, not all of them were the gauche feelings of being incongruous. No, a room with this sensuous appeal; would do more than thrill, but also hold pleasure as well.

Shaking her short strands of russet, Yuffie shyly gazed into his hypnotic-eyes. Oh, his claret orbs held a certain overshadowing sensation when he returned the glance. His intimate impression buried itself deep within her petite bosom, as if implanting intricate proposals, only he, could bequeath. And, that almost made her yearn for his silken touch upon her bare skin. If only it could be so…

Yuffie's cheek felt the immediate warmth from his organic hand; the tepid palm sent elated chills down her spine. If he did not stop this discreet foreplay, her mind would reel itself toward true insanity. Of course, this type of lunacy was greatly welcomed. She did not mind finding herself within a padded-room for the rest of her demented life, as long as she had at least once, felt his burning touch. Her sanity was worth such sacrifice.

The light reflection was kindly interrupted by the elusive stroke of his ungloved hand. Gently smiling, Vincent caressed her smooth cheeks with a finger. Ah yes, merely staring into her beautiful, oceanic-eyes, made him lust for her even more. He knew this night would truly test his cautious restraint; the temptation was almost too much for him to bear.

His tainted mind briefly imagined them tangled within satiny sheets, their bodies en masse. The timid deskman was not wrong about the room; Vincent would not be displeased. Especially, when his dark fantasies lay within reality. Even, the ebon bed sheets were corporeal. Everything within his licentious imagination came alive, as if taunting him to take her. And without restraint, he would. Eventually anyway.

Yes, her chaste innocence would be his. Not only her virginity would lay within his possession, but also, her heart. Her love was what he truly desired, not a trivial conquest. Yuffie was more than a pawn upon a chessboard; she was his soul. Even if that ingrate had taken her virtue, he would still love her. His commitment and eternal loyalty bound itself to her. Even if she were to leave him, he could never betray her; she was too precious for such infidelity. 

Closing his bloodstained-eyes, he silently considered the possibility of losing her; he could not. Nor, would he. Not when so much greatly depended upon her acceptance. If he lost her, he would also suffer the loss of everything he enjoyed, including his fragile sanity. And he knew it would be most likely be what Fate had planned all along. The twisted irony of rebuilding his shattered life actually, becoming his eternal demise. 

Vincent understood his mind dwelled upon the same thoughts, like an unending spiral of insecurity. Repetition was something he could not break a habit of. No, most humans always reiterated their thoughts over and over, like a growing madness eating away at their sanity. Such inactions were very difficult to escape. Even with paradise in the horizon, it was still hard to cast aside all self-uncertainty. Nothing could be taken for granted, as he had already discovered.

He mentally scorned at the flooding memories of his life thirty years prior. Oh, how it all seemed so important at that time, everything vital held within perfect balance. His life, his work, his immortal love, all of it was faded now… The assiduity he held was nothing more than a fabricated lie he unfortunately believed which, cost him greatly. Thirty years of self-torment was enough to drive anyone insane, but perhaps, it wasn't a total loss after all. Seeing his life now, compared to his discarded one, actually seemed more realistic.

The bittersweet incongruity was truly something he enjoyed. The fleeting prospect of what should have been mutated itself into a paradoxical condition of irony. He was truly a tragic character that had found his realizations a little too late, or so he believed. His fickle mind would change in due time, it usually did. What did it matter anyway?

People greatly depended upon straightforward answers, never fully acknowledging the sheer joy of finding out in time. He realized that was the kind of person he used to be. Not anymore. Not after this journey, would he dare revert back to the way he was, the way people saw him. It was tiring to hide behind a mask of fallacy, as he had done in the past year. Why had he anyway?

Oh yes, for his alleged sins. He inwardly snorted at the bullshit he harboured into his deluded mind. Hojo was wonderful at breaking his spirit for three decades. However, the deceased scientist's little victory would prevail no further. In all reality, he failed to make his altered adversary break. Even now, Vincent was recovering from the ashes of his unnecessary torment.

His sedated time of penance was incredibly foolish. This would be the last time he would damn him self and remember his past. It held no meaning or importance, since all of it was a lie. Lucrecia never loved him, nor would she, seeing as she was dead. Hanging onto an ethereal apparition was meaningless. His quest to avenge their lives had been over since Sephiroth's unfortunate end. That would at least be one regret he would still carry.

The fallen general did not even have a chance to live. His soul purpose within life was merely based upon scientific research to go against every natural law enforced. His alleged parents were nothing but observers--crazed fanatics that wished to see if science could break faith. In this light, Lucrecia did not seem to be the angel she was perceived as, she was no better than Hojo. Like the mythical Eos, she locked him away in a damning prison for eternity. It was a pity they failed in their hopeful attempt.  

And with that, Vincent shut her out of his mind--completely. Her verdant-eyes and long-russet hair would no longer plague his mind with hopeless dreams and aspirations he once desired. The ghost she was, left the cavern long ago--never to return. Perhaps, she had found what she was looking for, he would never know. The only guilt left was never determining whether Sephiroth was actually his son…

It was a subject he never planned to share with anyone, especially Yuffie. He knew her anger for him spawning such an abomination would be unforgivable. Besides, he wasn't positive if Lucrecia's confession was true, she lied about so many things. Mainly, when it concerned their ill-fated affair.

Shaking his dark mane, he silently watched the young heiress rummage through a pile of wrinkled clothes; she was truly the picture of childhood innocence--sweet and vibrant. Something he would never be. However, the differing status of traits balanced out fittingly. He was dark, cold, and at times, neurotic. She, on the other hand, was light, warm, and very amiable toward life. Well, on the exterior part anyway.

People always hid the true darkness dwelling within their hearts. Yes, everyone had the surreptitious intention of cloaking they're true nature. Like an innate action, one would veil a gossamer obscurity around the tainted fraction of their soul and present a beautiful bravado, fooling all, but themselves. It was truly the downfall of men and the degradation of losing all reason.

He was not innocent of such iniquity. His dark intentions shielded the portion of his immortal soul that held the intrinsic desire of violence. However, the rational side also spoke against the degrading impulse and won his need to fight the demon within, the demon that was him. The concept of casting aside his inauspicious intent and giving in to the joys of absolute purification was merely a dream. Demons never fully lost their evil side, nor, would he.

It wasn't that he did not wish to see his dark nature fade away from his tattered soul, but the absence would seem almost out of joint. For so long, he held the wicked entity close, as if depending upon it to shield him from harm. Realizing, it was almost like a second skin to him now. He could never be like the common everyday Joe. And sadly, Yuffie would have to accept that.

The question was, could she? Sure, she fully accepted his past and imposing form, but would she dare endure the fact that he was partially evil? He would never be the ideal hero in which, many women often dreamt of. The cloaking darkness would prevent him from being as such, but he could never bring himself to ever harm her. Vincent was not that malicious.

The Yin and Yang conjecture equalized his soul--the good outweighing evil. The shred of ominous fixation merely contained his jealousy and anger. He could never go as far as murdering someone for the utter joy of seeing their blood staining his hands. No, he was not like Hojo. And inwardly, he thanked whatever god took mercy upon him for it.

Shutting the offending thoughts aside, he noticed Yuffie's silhouette behind the screen curtain, the feminine contours of her hips ate at his vigilant temperance. Could she not wait until he left the room? Gods, it was like teasing a wolf with a piece of meat, and he, was a bad one.

Closing his bloody orbs, Vincent instinctively approached the silken panel. Stopping short a step from what lay behind the screen, he cleared his throat. The unexpected gasp he heard almost made him chuckle--he surprised her. "Yuffie," he murmured with a hint of amusement.

"Y-Yes?" She asked in a hesitated tone.

He truly took pleasure in hearing her uncertainty; it expressed her to be more human. With a wolfish grin, he uttered, "I'll get the tickets, while you finish dressing. I cannot wait to see how you look, my dear."

Yuffie did not hear the door shut when she picked her mouth up from the carpeted floor. Shaking her russet mop, she gazed at the door with an opaque expression, not fully understanding what he meant by that. Gods, did he actually insinuate? No, it could not be, could it?

Sure, she subtly admitted their cuddles and lover's chatter was on the grounds of excessive flirtation, but still. Not even a kiss came out of the deal. Of course, how could it when the situation proved itself as being awkward? She noticed the innumerable times when their lips almost met and the sudden restraint Vincent obtained as he pulled away from her.

She now realized the he wanted to kiss her and maybe, a little more. It would not be a negative thing if he desired her for more than a friend, but at least hold her above a sexual consort. Shiva, she was not a whore. Not even, for one man. Although, a lady of noble blood turned mistress did seem to have a slight edge to it. But, she wanted to be more than that. Well, at least to him.

Vincent had always treated her with respect. Even now, he had set his life aside and placed her priorities first. Those acts were not qualifications for a temporary mistress or a quick ride. No, Vincent would not berate her slow low as to tarnish her name. Even though, he had every right to. Kisaragis were an exception when it came to his personal life. She would not blame him if he wanted to ruin her and have his ultimate revenge upon her family.

Sighing, she rubbed her tired eyes. The incessant ticking from the table-clock across the room seemed like a thundering metronome within her aching mind, the striking rod pounding into her muddled brain. Could this day just be over already? Was it so much to ask for a moment where her conflicting thoughts would not trouble her, where she could believe everything was all right?

Yuffie wanted to believe in what her heart told her. The idea of Vincent continuing his charming cabaret of gentlemanly acts was almost too good to be true. Men never stayed the same when they finally had their prize within their lustful grasp. Vincent would be no exception; she had already noticed a tinge of his controlled jealousy seething from every pore of his body. He also, would threaten, if her interests were in held question.

It was somewhat unnerving to consider him beating the bloody hell out of a guy if he gave her the wrong look. The ominous glares he cast seemed to give away his darkening intent, maybe to the point of murdering. The very idea sent chills down her spine. Vincent would never habour such cruelty, would he?

Right now, she was not so sure. He was in all respects, a trained assassin. Perhaps, the Turk blood still flowed heavily throughout those indigo veins. There was little remorse in his austere visage when he fired a fatal bullet in Sephiroth. The screaming echo of the deceased general resounded through her mind. It was a sound she could never forget. The haunting cry of agony would also visit her troubled mind, perhaps, mainly over her inability to help him.

She knew he never enjoyed whatever existence he obtained, his emotionless-eyes were explanation enough. Cloud was wrong to accuse Sephiroth for everything. Sure, he had committed many of the crimes, but still, it technically was not his fault. Why did everyone seem to forget that ShinRa and Jenova had a majour hand in all of it? Good God, they were the ones who drove the legendary general mad.

Yuffie rubbed her aching temple as she studied herself in the Victorian-style mirror. Her cerulean-eyes reflected uncertainty and pain as she wiped the smeared mascara away from her left eye. Shaking her tangled mop, she turned to the massive bed and gazed longingly at it. She briefly hesitated, silently commenting upon the lavish suite. Smiling, she gingerly touched the soft exterior of the comforter.

Her soft fingers traced the intricate designs of scarlet eiderdown. Vincent must have paid a fortune for this room. Yuffie could not help but smile at his thoughtful attempts to comfort her. Her dark musings over his animalistic actions melted when she considered his kindness to her. No matter how atrocious her mind reminded her of his dark side, she would always outweigh it with the side the side he desperately wanted her to see, the side she fell in love with.

To hell with him being dangerous. The only danger she was in was if he denied her. Of course, she would take that chance. She had to. Or else, she would forever regret if his answer had been yes. The only devastation he could do would, be to leave without a second thought, and that was something he couldn't do. She knew he cared. The question; was it more than a fickle desire of love?

Yuffie subtly bit her lower lip to the point of peeling a thin layer of skin off. It was decided. He would know tonight. She realized many relationships were ruined if a person hesitated too long. It would be better to finally come out with it and confess what she had buried deep within her soul--her love for him.

She briefly wondered if he would say yes, even though, he would not get much out of the package. Her mind always thought of the concept of him being disgusted if he saw what lay under her clothes. Wait, he had.

Vincent would have most likely seen everything from the fang-aligned set of freckles upon her neck, to the small birthmark on her lower back. The innumerable amount of scars that cascading across her skin, especially from her shoulders down, was certainly noticeable, even the other markings… He had to have seen everything. She was an idiot to believe he hadn't. Of course, there was a small possibility that he had briefly glanced at her when he tried to find a method to save her from dying.

She silently admitted that she wasn't perfect, but who was? The man she loved had the ability to change into powerful demons and people shirked from his domineering presence. A few scars were nothing compared the everlasting anxiety people bestowed. Would he accept a flawed girl for his bride? The simple question was the depending factor on her life now.

How odd it was to see it end like this. The irony of finding another to fill her empty life was something she had not planned. She slowly shook her head from the twisted paradox that made her life. Reno had been her everything the moment they met in that hazy bar. But now, the memory she held so closely to her heart was now, fading from it.

She would always be grateful for meeting Reno, but forever regret falling in love with him. He was not meant for her, and deep down, she knew that. Even when, she deluded herself in the hopeful belief that he felt something, the inevitable knowledge was there. They were not destined to be. 

It was like saying farewell to a beloved ghost from her past, the light contentment of being laid to rest made her smile. Perhaps, her past could finally reside where it should, in memory. Her future, on the other hand, was something she needed to concern herself with. Was this what Vincent had done? Dwelling upon the past for thirty years, and now, breaking from the unending cycle, would certainly be difficult.

And yet, he had. Even, if he had not verbally admitted it, Vincent finally let Lucrecia go. The pain that resided within his bloodstained-eyes disappeared, leaving only a crimson gleam of ease. Vincent overcame the demons of his past, and deep down, she knew she had something to do with it. Her dark guardian acted differently now, and that was not a bad thing.

Her sudden enlightenment faded away the moment she felt warm arms encircle her slumped form. The warm breath upon her shoulder made her emit a slight moan, giving her silent intruder the edge he needed. Yuffie's stormy-eyes gazed into countering crimson ones, the silent ache shown within them.

"Are you ready," he asked with hesitation.

"Yes, Vincent. That was fast. I thought you would at least be a few more minutes."

An appeased smile traced his pallid-lips as he murmured, "You underestimate me, angel." Shaking his ebony mane, he continued. "The line thinned rather quickly when they noticed I was coming, hmm, I wonder why?" He cast a dumbfounded expression, causing her to laugh. "Anyway, are you ready?"

"Of course."

Taking her ungloved hand, Vincent pulled her from the bed. "I am sorry my attire is not appropriate for such an occasion, but I had not planned on going to an opera."

Vincent cupped her face in his palm. Shaking his unruly mane, he chided, "Yuffie, you're beautiful. Your dress is very fitting for this event. I'm surprised you wish to be seen with me, since I'm not wearing a suit."

"But, you look nice without the tux, Vincent. Besides, you fit into this society perfectly…" She muttered as she cast her eyes to the floor. "Don't say you've never been to things like this before, because I know you have, Vincent. I can tell by the way you act around them."

"Yes, I admit I have been to factions like this before, but I've never been truly comfortable around them. My duties as a Turk always ranged from missions to attending the President's little parties. Damage control was not one of my favourite memories as a Turk, but it's fun, Yuffie. The opera may harbour most of the world's wealthiest snobs, but it's more than that."

Bending down to meet her cerulean gaze, he continued. "Music and drama are part of the human soul. Without such peace, it would weather away. That's why we pay homage to the arts; they express us when simple words cannot. I suppose, even the rich must survive, thus they are here as well. But, they do not own the essence of art, not even if they could offer a worldly sum, it's priceless. Because, it belongs to everyone, even us."

The former Turk pulled her against him, showing his subtle meaning. "Now come on, we're going to enjoy the rest of the evening without regretting it."  

She said nothing as she felt him usher her to the door. Glancing at her, he silently questioned if she was ready. "I'm ready, Vincent. Even if, I pass out from the grand extravagance, I'm ready."

"I promise you will enjoy the opera." He pulled her hand to his lips and gently brushed against the smooth surface. "My lady, would you care to escort me to the show?" He asked with mock-formality.

"I would be honoured, my lord." She countered with a chuckle.

****        

Vincent held her cool hand within his human one proudly as he caught the stares of some of their fellow music lovers. He felt their uneasy apprehension when they seen them enter the lobby. Even now, the scornful glares many cast caused a dangerous tension within his cold heart.

However, he refused to cause a scene. Not now, anyway.

The innate desire to rip the sardonic stares from their faces was truly tempting and his silent demonic occupants needed the exercise. A wry grin traced his lips from the ludicrous thought--such an unfortunate pity for them not to see how trite he could be from a moment's action. Oh well, perhaps he could engage in something more interesting, like pursuing Wutai's last heir.

Yuffie was enchanting tonight. The short ebon dress suspended itself around her petite hips-- the sheer material displaying her feminine curves. Black heels also accompanied the ladylike ensemble with true sophistication. Who said the impish ninja would never grow into such an exquisite treasure? Oh yes, Cid. He would probably piss himself when he saw her in this fashion.

He would not make it a secret in suggesting she wear more feminine apparel. Not that her short shorts and tank tops were not appealing to his gaping eye, but the sight of her in a sensual dress made his frail body go rock hard. It was unnerving to hide his bodily actions in front of public. Of course, people could watch if they desired, a couple making love in a crowd was nothing new.

It was rather odd his mind could contrive such immoral thoughts, especially at his age. Gods, he was old enough to be her father. Such attraction was scandalous, and a love even more forbidden. Society would cast its eyes away in utter disdain the moment their relationship was announced. Even now, the hinted glares coursed angered blood through his inhuman veins.

He had gone through this before. Really this thoughtful reiteration was beginning to wear upon his thinning nerves. However, he could not control the repetitious ponderings no more than discontinue breathing. He deduced, his troubled thoughts would not end until he finally possessed her--and what a lovely treasure she would make.

The young Shinobi was a rare jewel amidst the throng of blooming chits within society's eye. Even within the bustling lobby, Yuffie's shy composure outweighed the coquettish glances many young ladies cast. Their peevish stares were focused upon them with true disdain. Vincent shot a malevolent glare in their imposing direction, frightening them enough to look the other way.

Appeased with himself, Vincent squeezed Yuffie's hand in reassurance when he handed an usher the tickets. His graceful lead made her silently gape at his maneuvering capabilities between a throng of bodies, and she, blindly following him into a dark corridor. Her oceanic-eyes widened in question when he lead her to another set of circular steps. A brief glance of certainty crossed his features, the simple gesture silently easing her discomfort.

She quietly thanked the deity of fluidity for preventing an untimely fall from her damned heels. Yuffie vowed after this night she would never attempt to wear the ungodly shoes in public again. Well, definitely after the ball. It would be rather odd to see her wearing a dress with her infamous orange sneakers. Yes, that would certainly be the gist of entertainment.

A gentle caress against her palm broke her concentration. Her placid gaze held his loving one as he ushered her to a leather seat. Her eyes widened to see where Vincent had actually led her. Shiva, it was a private box seat. How on earth could he afford such expensive seats?

"Yuffie," Vincent murmured, shattering her silent incredulity.

"Yes?"

A hopeful smile breached his lips as he nodded for her to sit down. His sheepish glance made her heart melt, when he whispered, "I hope these seats are to your liking. I told the desk-clerk to get the best."

Yuffie pulled a loose tendril away from her face. "This must have cost you a fortune, Vincent. I know seats like this do not come cheap, especially on short notice. The room was enough. Are you sure you want to splurge like this?"

Vincent read the uncertainty within her cerulean gaze. Shaking his head, he reproached, "Money is a trivial thing to spend your life attaining, Yuffie. It doesn't make people happy when they posses it, unless they put it to some use. I would rather waste it on something worthwhile then be miserable with it." He pulled her soft hand to his lips and gently brushed his lips against it. "In this case, my dear, I will not regret wasting it if you'll enjoy doing it with me."

Her ashen cheeks slightly reddened when she felt his warm, dulcet, leathery-lips upon her warm skin. She could not deny it any longer; the love was there. It shown brightly within his fiery-eyes as her heart stopped from the concrete realization. Yuffie automatically wrapped her loose fingers within the claw's sharp digits.

His eyes faintly widened, then softened to a loving manner. She finally noticed it. Thank God he almost believed a forward kiss would be the only way to make her see. With an automatic pull, Vincent managed to move Yuffie's seat closer to his. Smiling, he whispered, "You don't mind this close proximity, do you?"

Her subtle grunt made him chuckle with amusement. "I'll take that as a 'yes'?"

"I should push you out of this booth right now! It sounds tempting, but I'd rather have a translator for the show. I guess you'll live a little longer!"

Vincent caught her teasing jest, the feeling being mutual. Changing the subject, he turned his attention to the curtained stage. His red-eyes strangely matched the enormous curtain with a strange sort of clarity. It was assured no one other than the man beside of her had eyes like this. No one could ever duplicate his radiance.

His mechanical hand gently enclosed itself over hers as the chandeliers began to dim. Vincent absently placed his vacant arm over her chair's head, his pianist's fingers idly twisting her russet locks. His tacit gaze focused upon her flawless face within the shadows--her beauty melding with the darkness made her even more intriguing.

The lavish beauty the darkness cast over her silently compelled him. Odin, even within shadow, she was stunning. He silently wondered if she would be willing to sacrifice her life in the light to stay in darkness with him. The gunman silently admonished himself for the traitorous thought. Angels would--could never give up their life within the light, especially, for a demon of shadow. Oh well, even if it were unorthodox for a monster to bask in the luminosity that gave everything a heavenly quality, he would relinquish his shaded haven for her.

It was a hopeful fantasy to think she would at least stay within his darkened cloak of security temporarily. What would light be without its shady counterpart? Dull. The lackluster quality it would obtain would turn many from its radiant splendour. Perhaps, that's why there was a mythical heaven and hell. He did not know. Religion was something he had turned his back upon long ago. The belief in a god that cared seemed illogical. What kind of god would allow the hell that had become his life? And yet, had it not, he would most likely not be here with Yuffie tonight.

Perhaps, such a being did exist and found it necessary for him to wait; a wait he would endure another thirty years, as long as she ventured into his life. Lucrecia had been a wonderful temptation, but Yuffie was his saviour.

His crimson stare vacated Yuffie's angelic face and focused upon the practicing orchestra. The light sound of flutes and cellos echoed throughout the massive room. A content feeling flowed throughout his being-- the familiarity of music eased his soul. It had indeed been some time since he listened to soothing the mantra of instruments. This was another portion of his soul Hojo had stolen. It was rather strange to have his love for music returned. The dead scientist was gradually losing his hold on Vincent, and the feeling was magnanimous.

Yuffie glanced at his peaceful expression, his claret-eyes expressing true tranquility. Her heart ached to see him so calm. Vincent needed this. His hellish life had almost been too much for anyone to bear. She was utterly surprised it hadn't taken his sanity. Oh, how the pain of believing Lucrecia and Sephiroth's deaths were his fault. The false burden was utterly senseless. How could Hojo do this to such a kind person? Of course, jealousy could fit into such a complicated equation.

She felt the cool metal caress her warm skin, the feel of it exhilarating. To anyone else, Vincent's claw could possibly cause an awkward stillness, but not to her. Truthfully, she was intrigued by it. The blunt curves that molded what appeared to be his wrist and hand felt perplexingly smooth. His exposed palm was merely a leathery covering for the intricate system of wires that allowed movement within his fingers. The light glint from the dimmed tapirs made the sharp metal digits glow with an eerie brilliance. How could anyone be appalled by this work of art? People were so blind to accept true beauty within physical oddities.

The young heiress admitted she felt a tinge of jealousy when she noticed some of the young women staring daggers in her direction, their accusing eyes expressing hatred for her holding the attention of such a comely male. Make no mistake even though, his appearance frightened many, to a teenage girl, he was a dark angel. Girls had a right to hate her. A lowly female such as herself had very little chance capturing the loving attention of such a godlike being. It was indeed an unexpected paradox.

Did he not realize he was beautiful? Not to mention, a true gentlemen. He even attempted to pull back the unruly raven strands of hair with a red band. Vincent's headband was sensual to any female, but this journey without if allowed her to see his prominent forehead--making her wonder why he actually wore it. Truthfully, she liked his wild mane without the crimson band. He looked even more corporeal with his hair pulled back in a stylish ponytail.

The loose strands from the band subtly tickled her bare neck. Gods, could he be even more captivating? Her heart fluttered when he turned to notice her stare. Pulling her next to him, Yuffie leaned against his broad chest with indebted security.

Could she feel his heart beating madly against his chest? He never believed the dead muscle would ever function other than merely sustaining his life. But now, the massive core pumped for her. The actual will to live wildly coursed through his indigo veins. He could not die, not yet.

For so long, he dreamt of release. The unending torture of transforming into appalling demons--the ignominy of frightening so many never brought comfort to his tattered mind. Taking the gentlemen's way out now seemed cowardly--tedious even. Inwardly, he would rather spend one lifetime with her, than an endless eternity without. Death was relentless, unless there was someone to endure it with.

Clasping her hand within the claw, he inaudibly uttered his love to her. Even though, the words were not spoken, she knew where his sentiments lay. He felt her other hand cautiously caress his pallid face. The soft ministrations felt like an aphrodisiac, coursing madly throughout his hardening loins. Eros, it would certainly be hard to refrain from taking her right now.

Such antics however, needed total privacy. Although, the thought of ravishing her in an opera house with hundreds of spectators gaping in shock seemed almost enticing. He absently swept a kiss against her soft hair--inattentively inhaling the scent of wild lavender.

His attention turned toward the opening curtains, the music flowing passionately throughout the house. Paper-like dancers shifted gracefully across the darkened stage. Actors in Grecian garbs portrayed infamous characters from a forgotten myth. The choreography and setting gave the atmosphere a realistic-like quality, as if making the audience part of the story.

The masked company expressed humanistic qualities as the background music enhanced their actions. Ballet dancers added themselves to the various sets of props and columns. The lighting darkened as the heroine died within her lover's arms, making a forlorn emotion spread throughout the audience.

Ghostly apparitions and foggy emerald mist rose from above the stage as eerie music heightened into a brilliant symphonic suite. Violins and various woodwind instruments screeched, given the quality effect of supernatural dominance. The ambiance of death filled the viewers when staged moans echoed throughout the room. The impact was almost as strong as having a religious experience.

Shaded eyes glanced at the darkened box seat with silent interest. She was here, and also, their idol. So Valentine, you have moved on. Good boy. The bald man silently congratulated the former assassin. It's a pity Reno will not be as accepting…

Rude watched the distant couple from his row seat. So Valentine was the one responsible for causing the uproar of Icicle Village's new mayor to mysteriously lose his seat. God only knew how much the man had to bribe the hotel staff for such a lavish setting. The irony of a former Turk and Wutainese princess occupying the best in society was truly a one-time occurrence. And Rude quietly gloated at the wondrous scene.

"What's so funny, Rude?" Elena asked in a hushed whisper.

Glancing at his partner, he noticed her teary-eyes. Elena was crying. It almost made him reach out and wipe the vacant tears from her eyes. Stopping himself, he curtly answered, "Nothing, Elena. I merely thought of something humourous."

A blonde brow rose in question. "Something funny?" She asked in apparent disbelief. "You are so morbid! Here I am balling my eyes out over this show and you're smirking? Has something possessed you?"

Rude controlled his sudden laughter by muffling it into a cough. "A random thought, Elena, nothing more."

"If you say so." She murmured with partial belief. "It's a shame Reno would not join us. I honestly believed he would come out of his room and enjoy the night. You know? Like we used to do."

"He has a lot on his mind." He reprimanded. "Let him be, Elena. He needs to figure this out on his own."

"I thought he would forget her for at least a few hours! I would not doubt she's clinging onto some other poor soul and spilling her sorrows to him! Does she not see she is the cause of Reno's pain?"

Rude deeply considered his partner's angered comment, but silently disagreed with part of it. It was partially correct, of course. Well, from what he had just seen, but Yuffie was not the cause of his pain. Actually, she had tried to relieve him of it. But now, it was apparent she knew it was time to move on. Hopefully, his friend would also see sense and disregard it as well. 

It was true. Yuffie alleviated his pain somewhat, but could never fully extract it from him. Reno had to do that willingly. He silently pitied the star-crossed couple, knowing they were never meant to be. Both personalities were too alike. Sure, it was wise to have someone with the same characteristics as yourself, but not be an exact replica. Perhaps, this horoscope thing did have some truth in it.

The odd thing was, he agreed with her choice in Vincent. It was apparent that they were more than just friends. Gods, they were almost inseparable. It was actually hard to tell where one began and the other ended. She must have done a number upon his angst-ridden persona. Seeing his idol now, he mutely commended the man. His god was back.

Hojo failed in breaking the Turk deity. The perverse scientist was most likely rolling in his grave right now. Vincent was happy. And it was clear his consort's feelings were mutual. Who would have guessed a man who was a mere shadow of his former self had returned with a vengeance. Maybe, waking him from his dormant sleep was the best thing. Seeing him now, it was apparent he would never return to his previous life, but at least his personality returned.

Valentine's unyielding spark received his silent admiration. At least, one loyal brother would still look up to their founding father. However, Vincent's glorious return also made him realize it was also time to move on. ShinRa was gone, as were his brothers in blue. It would be futile to dwell within the past, as shown by his icon.

He decided not to tell Reno of his surprising observation. It would be best if he found out on his own. Besides, he deserved the shock for causing her unnecessary pain. That action was something he could never forgive him for. Reno had no right to hurt her the way he had. Especially, after all she had done for him; he did not deserve her forgiveness. And most likely, he would not receive it.

It was just as well. Perhaps, his friend would learn from this and salvage what he had left. He could only hope Reno would accept his loss with dignity. God forbid, both of them fight over her. And most likely, that would be the result. He did not need to place a bet over who would win either.

His dark-eyes bravely stole another glance of the couple. The simple question of how in the hell they ever reunited in the first place--confused him. Oh well, it did not matter. The distinct fact of them being romantically involved was enough. And in truth, he would not have it any other way.

Besides, he had his own concerns to take care of. Elena.

It was odd that he sought comfort in another, especially, from a woman. Not that he swung the other way or anything, but the thought of him actually finding an alleged girlfriend seemed impossible. He believed he would remain celibate the rest his life--only taking pleasure from a one night's stand.

However, the petite blonde who sometimes forgot the phrase silence is golden, still intrigued him. She was truly the direct opposite of him. Short, fair-skinned, blonde, Elena was certainly a rare breed of woman. Most blondes were dark-skinned and had the distinct quality of being complete fools. Not Elena. She was smart--brilliant even. She had a quirky spark that made him almost envy her. Almost.

He knew of her hidden crush for Reno. It wasn't hard to catch the obvious gawking when the fiery Turk wasn't looking. Perhaps, it was love. However, he believed it to be mere infatuation, something to cling on to after Tseng's death. Elena did not love Reno. She only desired an outlet for her relentless pain. It was unnecessary for her to endure more heartache. He could remedy that.

She looked enticing tonight. The emerald dress she wore truly complemented her ruby-eyes. He was somewhat surprised she decided to cast aside her beloved Turk garb for something more feminine. That poor excuse for an outfit did not do her justice, compared to what she wore now, that is. Elena also needed to move on from her days with the ShinRa.

Sure, their time as Turks was memorable--some memories good, others, almost too agonizing. But, those days were long gone. It was fruitless to linger a minute more in the past. ShinRa would never make a glorious return and Sephiroth would not rise from the grave this time. But, was that such a bad thing? He didn't think so.

It was almost a relief, actually. The frequent missions and lectures were merely a vague memory to him now. He honestly did not miss the numerous assassinations and terrorism he had a part in. Regrettably, those sins would stay with him. No wonder Valentine tried to atone for his. The guilt was nearly unbearable.

Elena's instant grasp around his arm almost made him gasp. And that was something he never done. His veiled gaze secretly reflected sympathy for the younger female. How on earth did she ever align herself with becoming a hired assassin? Good God, she was practically still a child. Her childlike features were clearly visible when she dropped her guard.

The petite blonde must have had a rough childhood. However, that could not be held as fact since she spoke little of her past. Privacy was respected within their circle. Unlike other factions, the Turks revered one's discretion--it was part of their job.

Perhaps, it was best he did not know. Of course, if the subject ever came up for discussion, he would not hesitate to ask. Over the past year, he had the pleasure of working with her. He had never seen someone just as determined, but timid. At least he could relate with her on that. It would be a thrill to dissect her mind and actually see what made her tick.

And he would. Elena needed someone that understood where she was coming from. And he believed he could be the one to execute such a task. Why else would he feel this tremulous sensation in his knees and stomach? It certainly wasn't a bad case of nerves or gaseous indigestion. Rude was never notorious for eating spicy foods.

The darkness shielded a comforting smile as he absently wiped a tear from a reddened eye. His gentle voice soothed her apparent discomfort with the play. Truly, a lovesick tragedy would do that to any female, especially, if it were as dramatic as the one on stage. No wonder Elena cried over such a trivial show--the main actor was a vague resemblance to Tseng. Gods, he would have to comfort her after the production…

Of course, that actually wasn't a bad thing.

**** 

Her tears fell like diminishing ashes from a funeral pyre. Never had she encountered something so emotional, so poignant--that it made her think upon what her life actually meant. Tales of true love overcoming all obstacles was virtually a lie. How could she believe in something she newly discovered when an age-old myth contradicted it?

Her watery gaze fell upon the small ivory leaflet--the painting of a woman holding a man's decapitated head on a lyre idly stared back. The rendered portrait portrayed that of a Thracian maiden glancing down at the somber severed globe of a male oracle. The dark tones and shadows gave the sensation of an unrequited grief the observer could only decipher.

The small rendition held her unwavering attention, as if being transfixed by some unseen force. Truly, the artist was a master of light and shadow--even the facial expressions were captured perfectly. Her heart went out to the inanimate image. It was rather trivial to shed tears over a simple picture, but the melancholy lull of the play made her act otherwise.

She inattentively stroked the papyri's onionskin surface. A lot of work was placed into this minute pamphlet--the expensive paper proved as much. Of course, it was nothing compared to the redundant shows the wealthy often frequented. Unlike them, she would always treasure the insignificant leaflet. Not because of its lavish style, but mainly the person who helped her acquire it. Vincent.

Did the play also affect him like it did her? Gods, she was verge of tears--something she had being showing a lot of lately. Personally, she wanted to believe it at least touched him. Perhaps, he felt pity for the lover's unfortunate tragedy. Love never prevailed. Maybe there was a purpose behind the act? Maybe Fate was trying to show her something? It was a feasible conclusion.

Yuffie barely felt the warm hand wiping a tear from her right eye. Looking up, she met the concerned gaze of her companion. Vincent plastered an encouraging smile upon his pallid-lips and gently pulled a stray lock away from her watery-eyes. His claw clasped her hand reassuringly as he finally murmured, "What's wrong, angel?"

Another tear escaped her eye--only to be wiped away from his soft hand. "To be honest, the play got to me."

"How so?" He asked, his tone partially concerned.

"It was sad. I thought that he would bring her soul back from the Underworld and live happily-ever-after, you know? I did not expect him to lose her and be dismembered by a group of angry women."

Vincent rubbed her shoulder supportively. "I know, my dear. But, that's what a tragedy usually is--a story where the hero or heroine dies or loses something very important. In this case, he lost his angelic tree nymph by his own doubt." A small smile breached his lips as he continued. "But, that's merely a story, Yuffie. It's not real. Which is why it's probably one of the most dramatic love stories known in ancient literature."

"I guess so." She replied, her voice full of dejection. "And here I thought it would be another thing to sleep through. Shiva, was I wrong."

"It's sometimes good to have the bitter along with the sweet. You cannot expect everything to be well all of the time, nor, be sorrowful either, its life, angel. The only thing to take comfort in is hope--hope in life and your loved ones. I know it's utter blasphemy coming out of the mouth of a condemned existentialist. But, I'm actually seeing more to life than I first believed."

Yuffie gazed into his reddening orbs, daring to fall into their sanguine depths. She knew her brave inquiry over what he meant by his comment may be her downfall, but she had to know. "What do you mean by that, Vincent?" She asked, partially afraid to know the answer.

A confident grin melded into his lips. Pulling her closer, he whispered, "I only meant that I have had a change of mind and heart over life these past few days. I used to believe there was nothing within this world that needed my presence. My place in life was merely a mistake made by some false deity. But now, I am beginning to reconsider that, Yuffie…"

She felt his warm breath linger upon her bare neck as he reluctantly pulled away. Her cerulean-eyes stared longingly into his. It was like falling into a splendid dream--never to awaken from. The tremulous sensations coursing through her body made her secretly desire him in an intimate way. Did he not realize that just his eyes could make her knees go weak?

The euphoric impression loitered like an elated drug within her system. It was a shame she had never experienced the effects of an aphrodisiac. Surely, it would have the same result as this. If not, people were wasting their time on a drug that did not suffice their needs.

Yuffie felt his warm arm entwined around hers as he led her to the room--their room. Yes, how could it be so obvious of what may come out of the night? Gods, most people would expect a night of passion to occur behind the elegant mahogany doors. And actually, that wasn't a bad idea.

Her thoughts quickly evaporated when she heard the gentle click of the door behind her. They were finally alone. The sudden loss of conformity almost felt alien to her as she watched Vincent switch on a lamp from a nearby nightstand. The warm illuminated glow cast orange fragments of light against the slate-coloured walls.

A slight shudder came from her staggered breath, abruptly resulting in rubbing her bare arms. She did not notice Vincent's intense stare from behind. Like a hungry wolf eyeing its prey, the former Turk longed to sink his teeth into her fine ivory skin. The temptation was even more unbearable since their departure from the room a few hours before. He could not promise in fully succeeding against his innate wills as he had in the past…

She trusted him. The question was; could he trust himself? Could he look away from her fine figure and not hold a conscious thought of making love to her? He couldn't. Try as he may, he could never be a saint. And that fact proved he was more demon than man. Like an incubus seducing a virtuous angel, Vincent would take her purity in an animalistic urge of gratification.

And for that, he felt guilty. His inconsistent thoughts always breached him to this point. Should he or should he not continue this sensuous endeavor? Should he allow her to find a man rightful of taking her innocence? Or, shouldn't he be the one to show her the pleasures he had to offer? Gods, the difficult choice between right and wrong was almost excruciating. Of course, what was right and wrong?

For so long, he had seen the world in black and white. But now, shades of grey filled his vision with indecision. For all he knew, right could be black as sin, while, wrong was shielded behind a mask of purity. Perhaps, demons were not wholly evil, and angels were not as innocent. The enlightened conclusion finally dawned upon him. This was right.

Everything they had done in the eyes of natural law was appropriate. The concerned actions between them were civilized, just, and legitimate. Their unspoken relationship was no different as to those who voiced theirs to the world. Truthfully, their subtle acts of love were more concrete than those solidified in matrimony. But, that would soon change.

He watched her offhandedly cast aside her dark heels as she perched herself on the edge of the massive bed. Was this a subtle invitation, or did she not realize she was making him uncomfortable? Odin, she would later regret her careless actions if she did not stop this innocent approach. The demons inside already evoked him to take it as an initiative and possess her.

The beastly muscle within his chest almost stopped when she languidly placed her head against propped fingers. Her unruly strands of sepia wildly cascaded against her ashen face, showing the perfect image of an oblivious seraph. The licentious ache burning within his soul yearned for completion. And tonight, he would quench its undying thirst.

But first, he needed to practice his astute skills of seduction. Foreplay was always enticing, especially, when compromising the angel. Biting his lower lip, he concentrated upon how to approach her--casual or straightforward? Decisions. Decisions. A wry smirk accompanied the devious gleam within his demonic-eyes. It would be better to play the sheep first and then reveal his wolfish guise.

The muscles within his chest and abdomen tightened when he drew near the king-sized bed. Blood pounded heavily against his eardrums as he finally stood by bedside. Come on Valentine, you can do this. Now is not the time to cower away from her. You've dreamt of this moment since meeting her again. Don't lose her as you did Lucrecia. She needs you…

Vincent shook his conscience aside and situated himself upon the edge. Clearing his throat, he waited for her attention. A pleased smirk inwardly lined his stoic-lips when she glanced at him with her innocent-eyes. Odin, after this night he would kill to have her look at him the way she was doing now. Yes, he would show her what a boy could only dream of expressing. Her lackluster beau could never compare to his skill with gratified pleasure. At least his many acquaintances during his Turk career counted for something.

However, it somewhat shamed him he wouldn't be new to the experience as she would be. Oh well, one could not change the past. Perhaps, she could forgive him for that transgression as well. His sins commenced well before becoming an assassin. But, sometimes, even demons, could seek redemption and hope for their tainted slates to be wiped away.

Yuffie would be the one to rub the darkened stains of blood away. She was his only route for salvation. And tonight, he would be the angel she wanted him to be, albeit, a dark one, but an angel nonetheless. And that was enough.

"What are you doing, Vincent Valentine?" She eyed him with a semi-understanding glance.

"Well, I'm in a room with an enchanting lady who appears to need a bit of company." His faux inquiry lingered throughout the room.

A russet brow rose in apparent amusement. "Is that so? And who said I'm this lady? Surely, you don't think that highly of me."

A pale finger traced his lips in an enticing manner. "I wouldn't say that, my dear." He chided gently before moving closer. "Actually, I find you to be more of a woman then say, Tifa?"

"Liar!" She slapped his chest teasingly. "I thought you never told fibs, Vinnie!"

His jesting gaze suddenly melted to one of solemnity. "You…did not just call me that horrid name!" He growled; the humour deeply rooted within his criticism.    

Before she could utter an apology, he was already on top of her. She felt his strong arms pinning her against the sheets as he attacked her sides with relentless tickling. Her sudden laughter brought a smile to his face as held her down. She did not realize this was the beginning of her sweet, tantalizing torture. Oh, there would be much more to follow this harsh punishment. Much more.

"Vincent, stop! Okay! I give! I give! I'm sorry I called you Vinnie. It just sort of slipped out!" She giggled in-between breaths.

"Apology accepted, angel. But you know I must punish you for it. Otherwise, how will I know you will not slip and call me that again?"

"I promise I'll be a good girl! If you don't let me up, I'll--I'll"

"You'll what?" He asked in a teasing manner. "Will you bash in the head with your throws toys, or better yet, get your daddy on me?"

"That's not such a bad idea! Once I get up, I'll teach you!"

Vincent leaned closer to her face--almost touching her lips with his. His teasing expression shifted to one of visible longing. Freeing his unruly mane from its banded prison, he eyed her once more, the loose ebon tendrils enclosing their faces. He gazed into her shimmering oceanic-eyes, seeing the silent pleading within them. She wanted this too.

Deep breaths erupted from his lungs as watched her eyes flutter with questioning anticipation. The issue was ready to be broached. However, the words were like lead weights on his tongue. What if she if declined and left them in an awkward relationship afterwards? He could not handle that kind of rejection. She could not say no. Not now, not like this.

Breathing in, he finally uttered it. "Yuffie," he said breathlessly. "Would--would it be all right if I kissed you?"

Fear rose within his soul--his heart pounding furiously. She blinked for a moment before revealing a soft smile. Her oceanic-eyes stared into his affectionately before caressing a cold cheek with her hand. "Yes. You don't realize how long I wanted--"

He broke her off in mid-sentence as he pressed his leathery-lips against her soft, supple ones. The ingrained passion from the act left them wanting--hungering to satisfy an undying need. Yuffie pressed her fingers to her swollen lips with minute surprise. It was more than a simple kiss. The invoked ardour behind it left a vivid impression of what her guardian truly wanted.

Shock filled her senses when she reflected upon his fervent gesture. It started out a sweet, chaste action, but melted into one full of zeal and unquenched satisfaction. She could not remember the last time she felt something so emotional, so…right. Reno never kissed her like this. No, his had been rough with a taste of cigarettes and expensive liquor, while Vincent's were soft, loving, and sweet.

She gazed into his burgundy-eyes as he lovingly stroked the side of her face. "Thank you, angel mine. Thank you."

Disappointment filled her when he did not attempt to steal or rather, ask for another kiss. Vincent must have sensed the discontent as he silently shook his head in silent reprove and this time, did not ask for it. His lips massaged hers in a soft, unspoken sentiment. "Yuffie," he whispered tenderly.

"Yes?"

His bloodied orbs gazed into her cerulean ones in a doting manner, the staggered breath ejected from lips. "I care deeply for you. I want you to know that."

"I know." She murmured under her breath. "Somehow, I've always known that. And I want you to know I feel the same way. I cannot explain it, Vincent. I--"

"Shhh. It's all right, don't be confused by this."

"Vincent, would it be a sin to admit that I wanted this?"

A mollified smile came to his lips. "Then I suppose we're both sinners, Yuffie. You cannot imagine how long I've wanted to kiss you. How long I've wanted to--" He abruptly stopped himself from saying more. Would she accept a night of unending passion? Sure, a simple kiss was nothing compared to one sacrificing their virginity.

"How long you want to what, Vincent? Was there something else?" Yuffie inquired, her tone no less than angelic.

Vincent blinked. "I don't want to pressure you into anything, Yuffie. Not unless, you're ready."

"Does this anything have to do with staying up all night?"

God, she was blunt. Of course, that was one of the reasons he found her so appealing. Perhaps, she was ready for this. Perhaps, she was ready to offer her soul to a demon. The thought of her chaining herself to him enticed his mind enough to say, "It could be also be exercised in the day. But, I find it better done at night."

Her eyes widened, albeit slightly. "You're serious?"

"When it comes down to it, yes. Making love is something I rarely joke about." He enclosed her face with his.

"You joke about sex? That's something I've never heard! Did I ever tell you the joke about the voodoo--never mind!"

"No," he asked curiously, "What is this voodoo, joke, angel? Has someone been corrupting you with perverse jokes? I'll have to punish them!"

"Well, I doubt you would punish Tifa since she told it to me a long time ago. Besides, it's nothing important to know."

"I will get it out of you before this night's over! Count on that!"

"And how will you get it out of me? Are you going to punish me?" She teased with a mocking grin.

"I was thinking about it. Do you mean that as an invitation, Lady Kisaragi?"

Her heart raced madly as she attempted to catch her breath. "You're invited, Vincent."

His soft smile changed to a lustful grin as he kissed her again. "Then I take the invitation fully, my dear."

The guttural growl escaped his pale lips as he graced his cheek against one of hers. The satiny feel of her skin brought forth a new inclination to make her, his. Oh, and she would be. By the gods, Lady Yuffie Hikari Kisaragi, daughter of Lord Godo, and the seventeenth descendent to claim the Kisaragi throne, would be his. And she would longer hold her precious title dear once his name was attached in the arrangement. She would no longer need to concern herself with the headaches of a capricious country--he would take the burden upon himself. As, he was destined to.

Yuffie was too beautiful to have frown lines taint her face in later years. Women of Wutainese descent hid their age very well, even in their ancient years. Yuffie would be no exception. Like a marble goddess, she would grace the world with her infrequent beauty and make men envy the monster that held her heart.

She would also be a wonderful mother; he inwardly knew that. The contradiction of a Kisaragi and a Yoshijirou having children sent elated chills down his spine. It was a wonderful concept greatly needing to be placed into effect. Godo would have a stroke once he found out his daughter would bear his enemy's child. Perhaps, this union would end the silly feud that had lasted for countless generations. Yes, the final descendents to two ancient lines would be the ones to join them in a blissful union.

Kings from lands long forgotten joined their offspring with conflicting nations in a hopeful concord of peace. The thought did not strike him too well. He did not want Yuffie to acquire some sort of end to a dispute between their ancestors. No, he wanted her for who she was. The detail of her being a significant enemy was not the main aspect of his happiness.

Shaking the thoughts aside, Vincent gently cradled her in his arms and began to lull soft whispers into her ear. "Yuffie, I want you to know that I could never harm you in any way. It would tear my soul apart to know I caused you pain. For so long, I wanted someone to accept me for whom I am. I never expected to actually find it after losing my soul…"

Yuffie gently nestled her cheek against his. "You've never lost your soul, Vincent, because--I can see it. You are probably one of the few people whom I fully trust with my life. I know you could never hurt me." But, could I trust myself to never hurt you? I don't believe you would want me after you see… She immediately closed her eyes in shame. He would leave her once he saw… Yes, he could not want her after seeing her true frailty.

"Yuffie, what's wrong?"

She turned away him from apparent shame--a solitary tear falling from an icy-eye. "I can't do this." She muttered in a choked whisper. "I can't see you look away from me in disgust once you see me--the real me."

Carefully gracing her chin with sharp digits, Vincent softly murmured, "If you can stand this poor excuse for a hand touching you, then I have no problem seeing what's behind your dress. I could never be disgusted with you, Yuffie. I don't know who has made you think so little of yourself. Whoever they are, they're wrong. For what I see before me, can be no less than a flawless angel."

He caught the tear with the metal finger and placed it against his lips. "A lady such as yourself has no need to cry such sweet tears. Yuffie, I won't lie to you--I want you. I want you more than anything I have ever desired. If you wish to do this, I will be the happiest man in existence. If you don't, I understand completely. I have no desire to rush you."

Yuffie read the truth swirling deep within the crimson depths of his eyes. And the truth was, she wanted him as well. And now, she would finally give in to the silent whispers within her heart and take a chance that may cost her soul. However, such temptation was worthwhile for those who decided to gamble everything to acquire it. And Yuffie was no exception.

"Vincent, I want this. I want to do this right here, right now, with you." She stuttered under a shallow breath. "I won't regret it, because, you're the one I have always wanted… I know it sounds crazy but--"

"Shhh," he gently whispered. "It's far from crazy, my dear. I will show what it is to live and see the world through a pane of rose coloured glass. I regret there will be a little pain involved--inevitable and unavoidable. I will try to make it painless as I possibly can." He murmured, before placing a hand upon her upper bicep. "Yuffie, do you trust me?"

"Yes. Yes, I trust you."

The gunman gently nodded before reluctantly unbuttoning the sheer muslin shirt. Ivory skin gleamed within the lamplight as he cast the garment to the floor. His eyes shown a fleck of uncertainty before, pulling the long, ebon strands away from his back. The dark tendrils hung loosely within the claw as if pleading for its dark captor for release.

Vincent refrained from exposing his backside to her. His hesitant voice echoed visible insecurity. "Yuffie, I want you to see this before fully making your decision." He turned his back to her, revealing an almost intricate pattern of scars that crisscrossed against the pallid skin. Two diamond-shaped scars were evident on his mid-back, as were the small punctures where tubes had been. The horrid mass of marks did not appall her in the slightest. And here she believed her imperfections would frighten him.

Her cerulean gaze focused more upon something else. A different mark resided at the base of his neck. The dark symbol displayed two lines-one straight, the other slightly bent in a shape akin to the one of Saturn. It was accompanied with two smaller dots parallel to one another. Yes, it was the distinct mark of fire. But, why would he have such a strange tattoo opposite to hers?

Silence reigned supreme within the massive room. The expanse of soundless obscurity made her companion shudder with a staggered breath. "I understand you would not wish to touch them since they're so…hideous."

His head was lowered in evident disgrace--silently wishing he had not been afflicted with the garish mars. Yuffie watched his broad shoulder, once-proud, fall in irrefutable despondency. She did not trust her voice with this delicate matter. Instead, she bravely moved to his obscured side and gently stroked the deep trenches with her light touch.

The sudden action made his desperate-eyes widen with an immediate revelation. She was touching them? Not only touching them, but her lips also began to trace the ghastly marks with a certain gentle feel he could not describe. So long had the scars resided upon his grotesque form--the sins of his past. Everyday, he would carry them as a reminder of all he had done within his life. Some crimes were trite and excusable, while others, would hark back his wayward actions.

He felt her fingers trace the diamond-shaped scars without trepidation. She knew where those came from. He did not have to tell her when her cheek nestled the temperate flesh. "Vincent," she whispered with undeniable compassion. "These scars have caused you great pain. I now understand why you shielded yourself for so long. Even now, I see why. I cannot believe I did not notice them when I helped you down the Nibel Mountains."

"Yuffie, you were probably exasperated by my transformation, you did not look to see them. My pallor usually hides most of them. Besides, my hair always covers them. I'm glad you did not notice them until now… But, now that you know, can you see past them?"

With inquisitive hands, Yuffie stroked the marred flesh once more. "Your scars does not change who you are. I have a few as well. But, I would like to know how you got them. That is, if you want to tell me?"

Vincent closed his garnet-eyes, and kissed a bare shoulder. "I will tell you someday. Not here, not right now, not at this moment." He purred within her ear. "Do you still want to do this, Yuffie? I leave the choice entirely up to you."

Yuffie exerted a small smile. "If you can stand to see my scars, Vincent, then, I am yours."

His unsure gaze softened--the amusement returning in full. "I promise with every fibre of my being, you will not regret this." His hands cautiously extended to the straps of her dress.

With a look of hesitation, he watched her nod in silence. Smiling, the former Turk unzipped the dress adroitly and loosened the garb from her shoulders. His crimson orbs danced with visible delight as the pallid skin reflected within his eyes.

His cool breathed graced against her bare skin--where small Goosebumps rippled upon the exposed flesh. His demonic heart raced when he noticed her shiver from the cool contact. Very soon, my love… Very soon you will not feel my frigid breath. You will not even remember what it's like to be cold.

His subtle movements melted to mechanical agility as he pulled the dress down further--until it settled upon her lap. His bloodied gaze beheld the feminine sight in front of him. Never had he viewed such beauty. It was as if the woman in front of him was a living Grecian statue brought to life for only his eyes to appreciate. Gods, this couldn't be real.

He waited a moment before touching the lacey fabric. His warm-eyes held hers as he lightly stroked her left strap with his index finger. A small smile reached his lips--showing his apparent contentment. Breathing in, he continued down the fastening with slow reverence. Now was not the time to rush things--they had all night.

Breathe. She told herself diligently. Just breathe.

But God; how could she when he was making her stomach lurch with a myriad of butterflies? Blood pumped madly against her eardrums-- making them feel as if they would explode. And then she felt it. The barrage of fervent, passionate kisses descending from her cheek to the indention of her chest. She let out a soft sigh followed by a gratified moan.

Vincent reveled in this. A glint of satisfaction gleamed within his eye as he teased her neck with his skillful lips. "Vincent," he heard her murmur.

"Yes, angel?" He questioned in-between kisses.

"How? How God's name do you do that?"

Her question was innocent, but delightful nonetheless. An appeased grin traced his lips as he rested her back against the mattress. "I first place my mouth here," he indicated, placing his finger to the base of her neck. "And, I work my way down, here." His finger rested between her supple breasts.

Yuffie whimpered as he teased her once more with his soothing ministrations. A tinge of anxiety filled her. He had to have been experienced. Meaning, he had been with other women. Her heart stopped from the concept of not pleasing him. Virgins were always an uncertainty when it came to pleasing their partner. Shutting her eyes, she gathered the courage to speak. "Vincent, have you done this before?"

His kisses abruptly ended. A slight sense of guilt filled him. He should have waited. That way both could experience making love equally. "Yes, my dear. And, I regret it. I should have waited. I should have-" Shame filled his tone before being interrupted by her warm hand.

"No, I'm glad you didn't. Maybe you can show me what to do. I want to make you happy, Vincent."

Requited love filled him as he gently caressed a cheek. "You could never displease me, Yuffie. Although, I regret not waiting, I will not disappoint you. Tonight, is ours and we will enjoy it. I promise you." He whispered before nibbling on an earlobe.

His hands traced down her back, as if reading it like an atlas. He felt her hands tremulously massage the intention between his broad shoulders--the un-calloused fingers touching where his tattoo was. Yuffie knew the arcane marking was there, and no doubt had questions. He did not want to speak of the scars Hojo and others had inflicted upon him, but he would at least confess how he received the fiery symbol.

Stopping his sweet ministrations, he gazed deeply, lovingly into her eyes. The beauty within the placid orbs instantly entranced him. Another realm existed within her beautiful orbs. He somewhat wished he could delve deeper into the minute world within them. Smiling, he finally gathered the courage to speak. "Yuffie, I will confess something to you now. The mark on my back, as you have already seen, is the symbol of fire.

"It is also my family's crest since our deity was the Phoenix. My ancestors found it mandatory that all heirs to the throne be branded with the emblem. However, as the years passed, many rulers did not find it vital to mark their successors with it. Perhaps, that is the reason my family fell. Ignorance of a powerful god can be somewhat lethal, especially to an entire household. It's a pity my father and the rest before him did not consider this.

"It was out of indifference that I received it. My father said it was because of my eyes and actions that I should be identified with it. It was also a reminder, I suppose for my unconformity with my clan. That, and my appearance, of course."

Yuffie stared at him in obvious confusion, noticing how loosely the term father was used. "What do you mean by you eyes and appearance?"

A sardonic grin melded into his lips. "My father and the others believed I was a traitor mainly because of my genetics." He emitted a derisive chuckle. "It's a shame they did not realize it was their doing. Believe it or not, I once had eyes the colour of yours. Perhaps, they were a lighter blue, but still, I had the Kisaragi-eyes. My father accused my mother for sleeping with the enemy. No matter how many times she tried to prove her loyalty, he would not believe her.

The bastard never cared for her. Not even, showing a fleck of remorse at her funeral." Vincent clenched the claw in apparent anger. "For so long, I tried to appease him in every way I possibly could. But, after seven years of attempting, I gave up. A seven-year-old grows rather tired of his alleged father shoving him to the side. I stopped caring about the glories of my family name and started to isolate myself from their purposes. My father found these acts on the lines of insubordination and thus, taught me a lesson."

Vincent's eyes gleamed with a fiery hatred. "He placed the tattoo at the base of my neck as a reminder that I was still a part of them." He hesitated a moment. It would be better to accompany the rest with his confession. "The majourity of scars on my back were from him. It was 'purification'; he called it. To me, it was nothing but a senseless torture. I never forgot the pain from his constant thrashing. Oh, how I yearned to use that leather whip on him! He never got the satisfaction out of hearing me cry.

"I did not wish to tell you about the rest, seeing as this would put a hindrance in the evening, but I know you wish to understand the remainder. I want to be fully honest with you before you may regret something." He softly murmured with visible discontent.

Yuffie shook her short mane in response. "No, you don't have to explain the rest to me. I know where the diamond-shaped ones come from, Vincent."

An ebon brow rose in dismay. "Hojo was a bastard for injecting me with a series of tubes and needles. No doubt, I have a number of them upon my back. But, I was the fool for taking the vial that contained Chaos. I figured it to be another punishment that I deserved. I never realized the pain it would bring at the time.

"Yes, I regret the foul entities within me. I have too many marks to count from their impromptu appearances. But Chaos' wings are probably the most significant. That flesh will always be tender as long as I draw breath, mainly because the skin is always disturbed by, its blasted wings. However, I've learned to control it more. I rarely transform as much. And, I also regret I do."

He muttered when he carefully grazed her jawbone with a human finger. "I understand I'm not the ideal man to be with. But, I cannot say I don't regret having feelings for you, Yuffie. During this journey, I actually found a reason to smile."

Tears filled her eyes when he spoke. How could he regret the inner beauty within himself? Did he not realize he saved her in the mountains? His chaotic state saved her. How could she find his forms threatening when they did nothing but save her? Vincent would see, even though, she might be the only person to show him, she would always love the man behind the monster.

Yuffie pulled his claw to towards her soft-lips and tenderly kissed the razor-sharp digits. His eyes slightly widened when she placed golden finger within her mouth. Was she? No, she could not accept this monstrosity openly, could she?

"Yuffie, I can't-"

"Shh, I know you cannot feel it, but I want to show you I don't care about what you look like or your transformations. I only care about the man in front of me."

His heart shattered. Tears threatened to fall from his bloodstained-eyes when she delicately teased the inhuman fingers. "Yuffie, I could--I could replace this thing with a more realistic hand. I know it is somewhat appalling in public."

An unspoken grin traced her lips when she shook her head. "No, I like your claw. For some reason, I've always liked it. It shows that you're different from other people and that's what I like about you. Because, you are and that is what draws me to you. Like a flame, you know? Don't change yourself because you're different, Vincent. It's your individuality that makes you who you are. Please, don't discard it like an unnecessary aspect."

Her tender comment tugged at his heart as he looked deeply into her eyes--seeing the truth. "Then I won't, angel. I won't try to change myself. To be, normal…"

She said nothing when he attacked her once more with a foray of soft, sensual kisses. Her soul burned with an innate passion of completion. Her hands raked through his dark locks as her neck arched back. His muffled growl assaulted her collarbone when he felt a rumbled laughter echo within her throat. Oh yes, she would be doing more than giggling after this night was through.

His wondering hands found the slumped portion of her dress. No doubt, it was wrinkled, but he'd worry with that later. Vincent gently tugged the silken fabric lower, his eyes focused upon hers.

She could tell him to stop right now and he would, albeit with much lament. His angel did not realize she was playing with fire. If she did not disperse from her carefree actions, she would walk away from this room deflowered. Of course, she already knew that. And besides, she already proclaimed her trust for him. He would not disappoint her.

He instantly felt the unbuckling of his duel set of belts. The silver bands flashed in the lamplight. Perhaps, he should turn the accursed light off. Making love in light was not as intriguing on the first run. Shaking his ebon mane, his human hand struggled to find the switch. With troubled success, he finally enclosed the room in complete darkness.

His staggered breath melded with hers, knowing she was uncertain about this. It was easier to function in light, but it was not as stimulating. His crimson orbs bore into hers with subtle inquiry. "Yuffie, if you prefer this with the lamp on, I'll switch it back."

"No," she quietly murmured. "No, it just surprised me a little. I want to do this right, Vincent."

"All right," He whispered with apt certainty. "Let's do this."

He did not give her time to object when he peeled the dress away from her. His artful accuracy threw the garment to the side. His organic hand stroked her soft skin as the other entangled itself within her short hair. Yuffie shuddered when his lips teased an idle bra-strap. Gods, he was going to take his sweet time getting her clothes off. Perhaps, this was what the romantics meant at foreplay. And, Vincent was a master at it.

As if reading her mind, the former Turk searched for the clasp to the infernal brassiere. Odin, why did women always have to wear such grating garments? Sure they tantalized the male's inherent mind, but God, it was hard to maneuver them from their intended mate. Especially, with one that seemed to not have a damned clasp!

Vincent growled in frustration. "I swear I hate these things!" He muttered under his breath.

Yuffie slightly giggled when her inept guardian blindly searched for the latch. Maybe, she should enlighten him that it was located in front. Of course, he would admit he knew it was there all along. It was a matter of her thinking he did not know. "Vincent, darling, it's in the front!" She spoke in-between giggles.

"I knew that!" He said before searching once more.

"I bet! You were getting a bit, what is it? Frustrated? Admit it! You couldn't find it!"

A sensual rumble erupted from him when he clasped his hand over her mouth. "You win, I didn't! Happy, angel?"                                        

Yuffie nibbled at his hand before he released her mouth. "Very! The great Vincent Valentine admitted he was wrong? The world surely must be coming to an end!"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm not always right, you know? Just like you are not always wrong."

"And what's that supposed to mean?" She tugged at his hair.

"It means what it says it is. We're not perfect." He whispered in between breaths. "But, you're the closest thing to perfection."

"Vincent…" she murmured, feeling the sheer material fall away from her.

He said nothing as he cautiously stroked the exposed skin. Even within the darkness, he could still make out the subtle mounds upon her chest. Yuffie's diminutive size was more than enough. Truth be told, he never wanted a woman with more cleavage than a body. Actually, he rather enjoyed seeing the rest than ogling a lady's chest all day. Not that, he didn't mind looking of course.

Endless caresses were followed substantial kisses upon her neck, chest, and shoulders. God only knew how many marks he would leave after this night. Her father would not be very pleased to see his daughter engrossed in a legion of hickies, especially, from for the likes of his alleged enemy.

 Yuffie's gentle touch upon his chest made him shudder with inaudible delight. Ifrite, just her touch set him on fire. His planned sweet introduction to the art of love would be cut short if she did not cease this innocent game. Refraining, Vincent whispered, "Darling, you're making me lose my edge to keeping this sweet and chaste. Do you want this tortuous overture or shall we cut to the chase?"

She knew he was merely jesting; he wanted this to last as long it possibly could. Cutting to the chase, as he deemed it, would be abrupt and almost, rash. No, she wanted this to last for an eternity, and perhaps, longer. Shaking her russet mop, she chortled, "No, I'll stop teasing, Vincent! I know you want to take your precious little time!"

Rich laughter erupted from him. "Trust me, darling, I'll make it worth your while! Would you care to help me out of these trousers? I mean it's a little hard to move in them, don't you think?"

Yuffie giggled. "I never expected you would crack a joke during something like this! Has the weather gotten to you?"

An opulent growl echoed throughout the shaded room. "Only when I'm with you, Yuffie." He said in mock-reprimand. "What am I going to do with you, hmm? I mean your viperous tongue must be remedied. You should not tease your elders, dear."

"And what if I want to? What are you going to do? Spank me?"

She regretted saying the fiery comment the moment it slipped from her mouth. A victorious chuckle was heard before she felt him roll her upon her stomach. The chilling breath gracing her skin made her tremble with elated anticipation. His hands, one earthly and warm, while the other, cool and synthetic, began to tenderly massage her tense back. He stopped when noticing a vaguely familiar symbol upon her lower back. So, the Kisaragis also branded their heirs? How odd to see the emblem of water upon her. Indeed he would have to ask her about it. But, not right now.

"You're tense." He stated matter-of-factly before working a stiff shoulder with his warm fingers.

The young heiress slightly shivered from the alien touch. No one had ever touched her in such a way. Except. She abruptly cast the thought aside. That was not something to think about, especially, now. Yuffie allowed herself to feel the gentle ministrations Vincent exerted. Nothing could compare to this tender moment not even, that disdainful memory.

"Don't worry," Vincent whispered into an ear. "There's nothing to be afraid of."

And, he was right, of course. There was nothing to fret over. However, she would not tell him about the night before her alleged beloved found it insightful to depart. The derisive memory tasted like poison in her mouth. How could she have ever loved him? Especially, after him trying to force his self upon her? That was it. That was the main reason he left… It was like a great epiphany finally knocking some sense into her empty skull.   

She admitted he was not evil, but when alcohol came into the picture, Reno was someone entirely different. It was as if another entity had taken possession of his body. His fickle mood-swings between being the perfect angel and spited devil were something she could not handle. Trying to abstain from an addiction was very hard to accomplish. She should have known it was ineffective for her to help him. Alone, that is.

An unwanted tear fell from an eye--no others followed. She was done shedding tears and pity for him. Her quest of saving his soul was over. Now, she was on a new one. A journey where she could save someone else and perhaps, finally find happiness. She would think no more of Reno after this night, no, after this moment. Her debt to him had been paid in full.

And now, she would move on. She prayed he could find someone that would be able save his soul and find the perpetual love that was not meant for her. Reno deserved to be happy. And perhaps, he would find that happiness one day. As a friend, she could only hope for his success.

"Vincent," she murmured under her breath.

"Yes, angel?"

"I'm happy."

A deep chuckle rumbled from his throat. "The night is far from over, Yuffie. You'll be more than happy by dawn."

"I'm certain I will be."

There was no more talk after she closed her eyes and allowed him to attack her with his gentle caresses. He had successfully shed the incommodious trousers and pulled her against him. Both instantly shuddered from the alien warmth. The innate attraction between them did not go unnoticed when their gazes locked in an intrinsic bond. After this night, they would no longer separated… Spiritually anyway.

Yuffie felt his staggering breath grace upon her delicate skin. There was longing within it, along with buried passion. His hands explored ever curve, every crevice, her body contained. The pianist-like fingers teased the upper portion of her chest while the dexterous metal digits stroked her lower side with much sensitivity. He certainly preferred to make this a long--almost strenuous event. Of course, she could not desire any other method.

After an extensive interlude of exploring their parallel forms, Vincent buried his face within the indention of her chest. His warm, sultry lips tantalized the shadowed flesh. The feral bout with his tongue almost made her scream in utter ecstasy. Before she realized it, her voice betrayed her with echoing soft, pleading whispers for him to continue.

Vincent growled with evident pleasure when her soft voice resonated within his elated mind. He held back a desperate moan when her angelic fingers raked through his unruly mane--the gentle touch was almost too unbearable. Control. He had to control himself. But, how could he when she was driving him onto a lover's insanity? Gods, Yuffie was…wonderful.

Better than that, she was bravura. He could not find the correct word to compare her with. Actually, nothing could compare to her. And he reveled in this.

Her hands seemed to find their way to his lower abdomen, just above the waistband of his boxers. A guttural moan escaped him when she stroked the sensitive flesh. How in Osiris' name did she know where to touch him--where to please him? It was as if she were only made for him to entertain. No one would ever have Yuffie after this night. His claim on her had long since been stated. Pity, many lost out on such a mortal goddess.

He bit the nape of her neck in an instinctual entitlement. Ah yes, very soon she would fully be his. He somewhat wondered if she knew the Wutainese regulations of courtship. Once she gave herself to a male, he would be deemed by law to protect her. Even if, it meant forfeiting his life. Shaking his tangled mane, he smiled at the irony of it.

For years, he had snubbed society's rules and delegations; the modern world's views were more practical, or at least digestible. But now, he rather enjoyed the prospect of acquiring Yuffie. Perhaps, he could accept his long-forgotten duty of leading a country that had once forsaken him. The paradox within it was rather funny. It would be nice to show that he was still a potential threat to their oh so peaceful community. Of course, he had been deemed a rakehell since he was a young adolescent. Yes, such a return would indeed be welcomed.

It was time. Not only to unite a divided kingdom, but also claim the other half of his soul. His sweet interval of making her comfortable was now over. Time was of the essence and he refused to allow it slip from his firm grasp.

"Carpe Noctem" He spoke in a sensual tone. Seeing the confusion trace her indigo orbs, he continued, "It means, Seize the Night, angel. I find it to be more appropriate than it's counterpart. Day can never reflect this moment as its dark sister can. Are you read to seize the night?"

"Yes, Vincent."

She did not question what he meant by the strange term, but inwardly knew it dealt with wanting to deepen their bond. Her breath almost caught in her throat when she felt him boldly tear away the remainder of her clothing. Gods, there was nothing to shield her from his crimson gaze--he would see everything.

Yuffie did not see her lover's agape expression. His widened-eyes trailed over her shaded body with immense appreciation. Biting back the urge to topple her, he quietly murmured, "Yuffie, you're so…beautiful." He hesitated a moment before guiding her hands to the satin boxers and urged her to take them off. "You're turn." Vincent spoke with true amusement.

He wasn't jesting. Yuffie felt his pleased gaze upon her nervous form--he would not intimidate her! With a jerk, the dark garment found itself on the carpeted floor. Laughter filled the room as he tackled her on the mattress. This time, love, you will not get away! Vincent smirked when he captured her lips once more. She was truly forbidden fruit. Forbidden fruit, in which, he took complete pleasure in. At least, this dire sin was worth it.

His skin set her on fire the moment flesh pressed against flesh. There were no barriers in-between themselves any longer. Within moments, they would be one. And that enticed her blissful mind. Oh yes, her dreams were finally happening. And it seemed they would last beyond the night to greet her everyday with subtle knowledge that this intrinsic union was eternal.

Vincent hovered above her--making sure he did not place his full weight upon her delicate form. His wild locks fell against her skin and tickled her with their feathery tips. He felt her warm lips slide against his pallid cheek in a fluid movement. This was it, the point of no return. Yuffie would have to plead to him now if she prized her virginity. He could not promise abstaining from her siren-like body a second longer.

"Yuffie," he uttered with apparent restraint. "Are you sure about this? I mean once you say yes I cannot promise I'll stop at the last second. You must tell me now. Otherwise, your pleas will fall upon deaf ears…"

The young heiress shook her head with silent delight. "Well, I suppose my screaming will only be in vain. I'm not one to change my mind about something like this. I want you to have it, Vincent, you're the only man I'll give it to…"

His heart screamed with true contentment. He softly stroked her smooth cheek his warm palm, assuring her it would be all right. "Yuffie, hold the kiss and do not let go, all right? I will try to make this as painless as possible… Do you trust me?"

"I trust you." She murmured before finding his lips once more and thus, ensuring her fate.

A stifled scream was heard as tears fell from her squinted-eyes. Vincent's soul cringed to see her in pain--the pain he was causing. But, it had to be done. No matter how much he desired not to hurt her. He stopped for a timid moment before he made the slightest movement. Her tears were evidence enough of his impromptu entry.

He carefully brushed away a lock of russet from her face. Yuffie's pristine tears slid from the corner of her eyes as she felt him sweep them away. Kissing her bruised-lips, he gazed deeply into her eyes. His sorrowful expression seared her heart when he spoke in a remorseful voice, "Did…did I hurt you? I'm so sorry, Yuffie. But, it had to be done, my angel."

"It's all right, really. I'll be fine in a moment." She murmured before tentatively kissing his cheek. "You made it as painless as you possibly could, Vincent. Don't blame yourself."

"I just don't wish to see you hurt, angel. Especially, because of my rash actions."

Yuffie held his gaze. "You constantly asked if I was sure about this. Don't say you're actions were rash; I wanted this."

Vincent revealed a wavering smile and gently nestled a cheek. "I promise there will be no more pain after this. Unless," He cast a wry smirk as a glint of impishness burned within his eyes. "I decide to bring out the cuffs…"

"You wouldn't! I could never imagine you cuffing me to the bed!"

"Oh? And, you could not imagine me making jokes about sex either? Darling, I've had much experience with cuffing people in the past. I'm certain my skills are not too rusty." He uttered in a husky whisper.

Their gazes locked in silent understanding. This was right in every way. Stormy cerulean met fiery crimson in a passionate stare before instinct kicked in. She felt his sultry arms embrace as they become one. Her mind ached, as well as her heart. The yearning need for completion tore at her being as he wrapped her in a blanket of pure ecstasy. Tonight, and all others that followed it, would hold a special meaning for her.

To be in the loving embrace of a demon contradicted everything she knew. But gods, it felt so right. She had followed the stars since she could walk. Their constant dependency was the only thing she could believe in. But now, Vincent replaced the fiery spheres of dust. He was her star-- her saviour.

Yuffie's pain receded as pleasure filled her soul. She could not grasp how wonderful life could be. Vincent was right about making love--it was like touching heaven. Their bodies found each other. Each flaw and imperfection was noted by simple touch. And, it did not matter. Acceptance for one's defects was the greatest way to prove trust. She trusted him with her life, but also her heart.

However, she could not say the words to complete this bond. Vincent gazed lovingly into her eyes as he kissed the bridge of her nose. He noticed the love reflecting from her eyes. Words were useless when an expression could capture the full sentiment and his spoke of love as well.

"Yuffie," he murmured, placing her hand to his sweaty chest. "This heart beats for you, and it shall until the day I die. This I promise you."

Tears fell from her eyes as she kissed him. "Vincent, I'll never leave you. On that, I vow."

His heart leapt from her assurance. She was his now. He did not need to obtain matrimonial deeds or papers of conformation. In spirit, they were one. Their life together was merely starting and looking promising by each passing moment.

Vincent pulled her against him as he pulled the dark sheets over their damp bodies. Kissing her hair, he whispered, "Yuffie, get some sleep. We have plenty of time to catch up on this."

"Goodnight, Vincent. Thank you for such a wonderful evening."

A laugh rumbled within his chest. "That makes two of us, love."

Yuffie's eyes widened. "Love? When did you start calling me that?"

"Oh," he said a little bemused. Caught. "I've been calling you that mentally for quite some time. I suppose I should be honest about it."

"So," she stopped in hesitation. "So, are we still friends?"

Vincent's heart fell. "I was hoping we'd be a bit more than that." He answered indignantly. "That is, if you want to be."

Yuffie giggled with delight. "So, I'm your girl now?"

"You'll always be my girl." He murmured as he kissed her gently. "Always."

Yuffie's heart swelled from his sweet conformation. She did not realize her newly acclaimed lover also felt the same temporal swell of elation. Yes, this night would begin their lives together. Their course was set, and now, they would follow it together. Fate was indeed strange to place them apart for so long. But, the blissful irony was truly beautiful. Nothing would ever tear them apart…

Author's Note: This was the longest and hardest chapter I have ever written! Going through three drafts of this chapter was a complete a bitch, I assure you. However, I must say, I probably enjoyed writing this chapter the most. I don't know, perhaps now everyone can say something along the lines of 'Thank God, they finally kissed!' Yeah, I found waiting eighteen chapters was a bit tedious, but suspenseful. Besides, I couldn't allow them to kiss and make love in the fifth chapter. That's going a little to fast, or at least, for my style. I hope I didn't damage any minds. Trust me, I could have made it worse. Pity, censorship kicks in. =(

Ah well, I may place a rougher version on my site when I have time. Carpe Noctem is actually a song I listened to while typing away at this beast! Really, it's awesome. That is, if you like rock and roll mixed with dark, classical music! The picture on the leaflet is actually a real painting done by Gustave Moreau, circa 1865. If anyone wishes me to e-mail them with the picture, please let me know! It's truly a work of art!  Oh and can anyone tell me what play they watched? Please, guess!  Au reviour!