Warning: Medical kink, Helena and Sephiroth get turned on by filleting Sephiroth, Possessive Sephiroth.
Helena's loafers' soles felt grimy. She had recently washed them in her bathtub, blood filling up the basin. She couldn't remember whose blood it was.
Helena was sitting at her desk. Papers were overflowing her space, which she once kept tidy. Her sister would berate her for keeping her space so chaotic. She could literally hear her voice as she placed one file on top of another, haphazardly. She hated it. She… hated her.
The screen's blue light hit Helena's glasses. She sighed as loudly as her manager could hear from his desk across the hall. Her manager's tongue snapped against the roof of his mouth in response. Helena took the small vial of eye drops from a drawer on her desk, cautiously dropping them in her open eyes. She blinked once, twice… She hated this.
Emma slipped through her door, not announcing, "You won't believe who's here."
Helena shrugged.
"Your big crush." Emma knew very little of Helena's obsession. The elusive Great Sephiroth. The way he moved across the floor. The way he stood so effortlessly as Shinra paraded him around. The way he slaughtered.
Helena swallowed, a dry spot in her throat refusing to be satiated. She followed Emma down the hall. The lights cast long shadows, and hollow sounds echoed against the tiles. A body was lying on a specimen's chair, those captivating eyes closed. Helena chuckled inwardly. Those eyes must have trapped so many in their line of sight, whomever that may be. Hojo had decided it best to employ an anesthesiologist for his more intense (sinister) experiments. Sephiroth was no stranger to Hojo's whims. Helena found it strange that he opted to be put to sleep.
Hojo was nowhere to be seen. Helena approached, acutely aware of her shoes slushing around her feet. Suppressing her heart's intensifying beats, she approached closer and closer. The back of her hand trailed up from his bare hipbone to the sinews that tied his ribs together.
"Such a beautiful specimen," she said to no one in particular.
She wanted to take the scalpel from the tray of toys and open that chest – she craved it. Take the thoracic retractor. See that beating heart. Helena swallowed as his eyes shot open. A common occurrence for SOLDIERs under anesthesia. See that beating heart. The hum of his heart increased in response to her absentminded touch, fingers tracing the outline of his solar plexus. Out of fear? No, Helena reassured herself.
His heart pounded in her head. She took the scalpel, tip scraping the thick skin, drawing blood as it moved out of habit. From collar bone to navel. His eyes closed, a hum of pleasure against the pressure of the knife.
"Helena."
Helena woke with a start. A life once lived. A life now gone.
Monday had rolled around the weekend uneventfully, except for the increasing anxiety that filled her with definitive dread. Tuesday was going to be hell for her—disapproval, hatred, even. She did her breathing exercises, her mindfulness meditations, exercising... but nothing seemed to work. She knew then that it was guilt and shame that consumed her. There was nothing to do but heal the deep rupture.
Helena entered the department, a misfortune certain to befall her. The administration at the desk shuffled around at the sight of the therapist. "Oh, Helena! First Class Sephiroth had to cancel his sessions."
Helena's face contorted. "Did he say why?"
"Unfortunately, he was called to Wutai." The young woman saw Helena dissatisfied and changed her tone. "He said he would reach out when he got back."
Helena barely let the woman at the front desk finish her sentence as she slammed the door of her office shut. She was seething. Anger is easier felt than… Helena opened her computer and began typing up her note, slamming the keys as she did. It must have disturbed some force as Mauve peered through a crack in the door.
"So, I guess you heard," Dr. Rogue called from a safe distance.
"He wants a referral." Helena blew air from her mouth, bubbling up her short, curly fringe.
"Who said?"
Helena thought about it for a moment, determining what could and couldn't be said. "He knows I used to work for R&D."
"He just came to that conclusion?" Mauve seemed to mitigate her shock—perhaps out of fear this would upset the delicate alliance Helena had with Sephiroth.
Helena imagined Sephiroth conscientiously and meticulously going through files, reading them at breakneck speeds. And Helena's face popped up. Her smiling face as she accepted her awards. Her face as she brushed shoulders with the researching elite. How would he have felt? He must be heartbroken.
"What will happen to me if I lose him as a client?" Helena leaned in as if telling some secret.
"I wouldn't worry about that, Helena. You're doing just fine. You just got to believe in yourself a bit more."
Helena's weak smile brought up feelings of deeply seeded doubt, and the ever-achiever reared its ugly head. She could hear her now: I won't accept failure. But she knew where she would go. And he knew he would see her again.
It was raining in Wutai. Thick muck, dredged up by stamping boots, lined the floors of the barracks. Sephiroth felt at home, or whatever akin to a home he could have. This was all by design, Helena was right. Shinra outlined for him a life of brutality, only to be ever watchful of the beast they created. Now, he was a SOLDIER, with his men, preparing the lambs for slaughter. Tomorrow, he will wear a suit picked out by his assistant and sit in a boardroom discussing the fate of people Shinra has never met.
"You seem distracted," Genesis purred into his ear, his hands unbuckling the straps that held his pauldrons. Genesis seemed to struggle, his hands slightly weak. Sephiroth was happy to assist. He had been separated from the man for too long. It was when he noticed the scar on Genesis's neck, still quite fresh despite the weeks it had been, that Sephiroth pulled back.
Genesis, ever observant, whispered, "It's fine. Just don't dwell on it."
Sephiroth's mind was filled with images of a skirmish gone horribly awry. Sephiroth lost control, he knew that, even then, as he pulled Masamune across his neck. Genesis was lying on his back. He was no threat. But something in Sephiroth called to him. You want to watch the world burn. Sephiroth agreed—it was by design, wasn't it?
Genesis instructed Sephiroth to lay himself down on the cot, straddling his hips and a budding erection. "Someone is excited to have me back."
"I would never hurt you; you know that, right?" Sephiroth spoke in between hardened kisses, passionately tearing at his boundaries. When was it that Sephiroth allowed the Crimson First Class into his very strict personal space? But he would never sleep with him in his bed. No. That was the only space he had for himself.
Genesis placed a hand over his commander's mouth, his hips drawing across the shaft, Genesis's own erection receiving the touch he needed. Genesis did not know that. Nor did he believe it. Sephiroth was so certain that this lay was out of pity. Genesis was aware of the craving, the obsession. Sephiroth would follow him; one time he had his car parked outside Genesis's home. He tried to sever the ties, as gently as he could, understanding he needed something healthier. But Sephiroth was having none of it. This would send Genesis into a Mako-induced rage. Genesis hoped this would finally quell the intense guilt, shame, and lust.
Genesis tugged at Sephiroth's pants. "Are you talking about this in therapy?"
Sephiroth aided the man, returning the favor with vigor. "I am."
"I never thought you would have gone through with it when I suggested her." Genesis felt his chest warm and the slice at his neck sting. Sephiroth approached, kissing down the length of the slash. How he had not bled out was a mystery to both men.
"I researched her work. She was – is caring in her work."
Genesis smiled. Ah, a new obsession. "Is she pretty?"
Sephiroth pulled free, insulted. "No. She's…"
"You're attracted to her. Admit it."
Genesis took the length; precum and arousal eased the entry. Genesis sighed with delight, hearing the silver-haired man moan and seeing his head dig deeper into the pillow. Sephiroth had been waiting for this for what seemed like an eternity; Genesis dangling the prospect in front of him, teasing him.
"You want her." Did he? Did he want to feel her grace, her loving touch? Sephiroth bit his lip in disgust.
"I want you." Sephiroth reached for Genesis, taking hold of his cock and aggressively stroking. Genesis loved how intense their relationship was. It led to fucks that ended up with broken furniture and deep bruised bites in areas Genesis would find days later.
"Just imagine I have curly hair." Genesis took Sephiroth's hand, using it as leverage. His hips were desperate and gripping.
"Fuck you," Sephiroth hissed.
Genesis's fingernails drew across Sephiroth's chest with enough pressure to draw blood, but Genesis knew that would never happen. It would only be the other way around.
"Close your eyes," Genesis instructed. "Just imagine she's here. On top of you."
"Please… don't," Sephiroth pleaded with such sincerity, not willing to let go.
"Do it," Genesis commanded, his fingers closing the man's eyes forcefully. "Just imagine her body."
Yes, he could see her. Against his will, he could see her. Her hair was in loose coils around her face. She dyed it red when she started offering therapy, shedding her past as best she could. She would come into session, always measured, and her fingernails were always painted an unassuming colour. She was short - short enough that he could smell her hair as he passed by. Like lavender. She always dressed as if she were sanitized—a vision of a therapist. Her clothes were often ill-fitted, and the outline of her bra often showed. She was heavy-chested; it was welcoming.
"I can't do this."
"You want her. But you won't let me go." Genesis reached for the PHS on Sephiroth's bedside. "Call her." Still straddling him, the warmth of skin in skin filling the both of them, Sephiroth flipped the phone open. He had her number, Genesis knew.
"Hello, Helena. This is Sephiroth."
"Sephiroth?" The sound of her voice sent him shivering, his back arching against Genesis's bucking. "I heard you cancelled your sessions. You're in Wutai, correct?"
"Yes. I wanted to tell you in person." Sephiroth could imagine her at home. Yes, it was nighttime in Midgar. He imagined her just about to get in the shower. He imagined him waiting for her, scalding water awaiting the both of them. He imagined she would like it.
"I'll see you when you get back." Helena blurted.
"Yes."
"Thank you for calling me. Be safe." How soft she was, genuine, relieved he would still be in her presence. The hold she had. Whispers of needs pollute his mind. She craved him, he knew it now.
"Yes. You as well."
Genesis knew it was done as the phone fell out of Sephiroth's hand, a blackout orgasm sending him into convulsions. Helena, you don't know what you're getting yourself into.
Client Contact
Client ID: S-01-01
Therapist: Helena Menninger
Client/Therapist discussion: Client reported to admin staff that he was dispatched to Wutai. Therapist received a call on business line that client would book upon his return.
Next steps: Client reported that he will book upon his return.
A/N: You thought Sephiroth was bad then, look at him now! Honestly, my second attempt at smut. It shows, lol! But I'm having fun. Hope that shows! Let me know what you think. I love writing about this rarepair and have been considering writing a SephirothxReader smutfic. It's really lonely not being able to share my writing or my interests. So if you have just a simple "hey" as a comment, go for it!
Song of the night: greedy, Tate McRae