Warning: dubcon in some parts (Helena has been drinking), deep unprofessionalism
Helena's hand hovered, a fist, over the dark green door outlined with gold trimmings. She took a moment to collect her nerves. Why are you even here? She knew this would only lead to more cravings, and her nerves were shot from the night before. She lost, that much was clear to the both of them. The consequences were severe. Her license—once and for all. She clung to the idea that there was something a part of her still sane, not truly acknowledging the fact that she had forfeited her own genetic design to something no one understood. Not Kathelyn. Not Hojo or Gast. Not even her. She had lost. She had to now face the consequences.
Helena knocked at the door, adjusting her bag further up her shoulder. The soft music playing inside went silent, and some shuffling occurred. It's not too late. Why are you even here? "I'm here to pay my dues," she joked to herself.
"Helena," Sephiroth said, opening the door further to let her in. "Please, come in."
Helena snuck by, her hair smelling of lavender, her curls bouncier than what he observed with their time together. In fact, this was how he imagined her when she was alone, drinking, waiting for some random stranger she had been messaging, desperately wanting. "Is that the dress?" He asked, half paying attention to how crestfallen she was—he can see you.
Helena untied the straps to her heels, watching as Sephiroth disappeared into the kitchen. "Well, that was the deal, wasn't it?"
Sephiroth laughed, melodically matching the soft music she heard earlier. "It was. I'm surprised you actually followed directions."
He met her as Helena was taking into account his catalog of records, alphabetically ordered by artist, each seemingly in pristine condition. Helena was quite impressed by his dedication, wondering if he ever considered his anality to be a disorder. She took the drink he offered. If his loft was anything of a reflection of him and his multitude of disorders, the drinks she collected on her bedside definitely were.
Sephiroth pulled out a record from the collection on the shelf, flashing her the sleeve. "Montcrieff," he stated, eliciting a chuckle from the ex-therapist. She took the sleeve, studying the woman on the front. "Should we play it?" Sephiroth took Helena's interest in the beautiful songstress on the cover to be interested in the soft jazz she played. Helena wondered if he liked her music or liked her lithe figure, demure and soft features.
"She plays in a bar close to my building sometimes." Helena attempted to strike up a conversation, suddenly aware of the space her body took. She smelled her drink and took a long, drawn-out swig. It was strong and sweet—definitely tequila.
"I'm surprised you even had her record." He continued the conversation as best as he could, suddenly aware of the fact that he had someone in his home. What are you doing? Helena shrugged in response, playing with the pleats on her dress, making the First Class swallow in discomfort.
"You look lovely," he said, deterring the conversation as the piano played on the record.
Lithe, soft, and demure. "I appreciate it. So do you. I mean, you look very handsome." Helena was entirely honest, blaming it on the drink. She bit her tongue; a want and hunger were taking hold, and she wasn't completely certain how to navigate it this time.
"I'm sorry to say your date never got to see you in that dress," absolute charm, a practiced response to discomfort. He learned it after years of navigating SOLDIER and Shinra as a whole. Angeal endorsed it. Genesis reinforced it. And now, here he was, with his therapist.
Helena bit her tongue again, walking through the main floor of the loft, drawn to a baby grand piano in a corner. She held her drink close to her chest. "Do you play?" Sephiroth nodded, opening the lid, his fingers lightly touching the ivories. "You're a man of many complexities, Sephiroth."
"I like to hear I can still impress my therapist." He sat on the stool, his impressive height cut in half in a matter of two smooth movements. "I take requests."
"What do you like to play?" Helena was enthralled by the prospect of knowing more about the First Class, more than anyone had ever been privy to. She knew of the Silver Elite and the hordes of people wanting nothing more than to have a sliver of him. It must be tiring, she thought to herself.
"To be honest, I'm only trained to play classical pieces. Hojo was very adamant," he said, stopping to laugh. "And here I am telling you more than I think is necessary." There was a sorrow in his words that Helena wanted to dissect further but bit her tongue instead, a copper taste filling her mouth.
Helena sat next to Sephiroth, watching as he played a short piece, pupils expanding to take in everything in his surroundings, excited. He paused to watch Helena close her eyes, her chest gently rising and falling in a predictable rhythm. "Come, let me show you how to play." He stood behind her, taking her wrists, tightening with uneasiness at the touch Helena could only perceive as sensually demeaning. She was never very good at anything. But his heartbeat against her skull and the yielding caress of his hair on her cheeks told her to listen and bear witness.
"Am I ready for a concert?" Helena laughed, feeling his fingers on hers, puppeteering her fingers on the keys.
"You have a lovely laugh."
"I'm well known for my laugh; I'm afraid." Helena stopped laughing when she felt his fingers unleash her from the keys, tilting her chin up, eyes meeting. She never noticed how green his eyes were, reflecting the dim light from the lamps littering his loft. "This is a bad idea."
"You keep saying that. And yet, here you are." Sephiroth leaned in, gentle caresses on her chin turning into a frustrated grasp for her neck. Helena accepted, acting as a receptacle for the intense feelings he carried with him. What a poor excuse of a therapist you are.
"Tell me how much you want me," Helena hissed, making a move for his own neck, causing Sephiroth to fumble around her neck.
"I want you, Helena."
Helena moaned, her larynx vibrating under the weight of his palm. With his free hand, he continued to puppet her hands to touch his chest, heaving with excitement. Helena mewled at the touch of his skin, no longer under the scrutiny of science but of pure curiosity, which Helena had long forgotten. Helena reached for his hand and, in turn, asked for him to explore her not yet conquered, but she wouldn't let him have that insight. She knew who was in control, and she relished that. Sephiroth's hands claimed the exposed cleavage, moving the straps of her dress down her arms. So welcoming, Sephiroth thought as he feverishly traced his fingertips on her collarbones.
"Tell me how much you want me." Sephiroth's breath was so warm against her skin. It didn't take much for Helena to hear her license being ripped up. She thought it best to show how much she truly desired to see sides of the silver-haired man only she could see through action rather than words she knew she would stumble through. She reached for his belt resting on his hips, unhooking the loop.
"You don't think that's a bad idea?" Sephiroth laughed, helping her drunken fingers maneuver the only thing between her and unchaining her unprofessional wants.
"I just want to see if I can handle you," Helena slurred, half paying attention to her flirtatiousness and fully enraptured by her lust for him. Obsessed. Was she obsessed? She was possibly obsessed with an idea but also taken by the man's alien beauty.
"I wonder if you could too," Sephiroth breathed in, helping Helena release his member from his pants. His navy pants were resting on his hips, held up by Helena's eager hands, pulling him towards a mouth that was so accepting. I want to know if your body accepts me. Her moans eased the thick cock past her uvula, a gag soon to follow. Sephiroth winced, pulling his hips back.
Helena looked up at him, endless oceans. "Do you like it?" She wanted to please; she wanted to know she was still desired. Her uncertainty was endearing and attractive to Sephiroth, perhaps because it reminded him so much of himself.
"It feels very good," he reassured. Helena took his words as a sign and took the length of his member again in her mouth, intensifying her pace down her throat, her tongue occasionally massaging the underside. She had only done this once, when she was in college, albeit drunk. He was quick and unsatisfying; she was not desired.
He pulled back, adjusting himself back in his pants. "I want more," Sephiroth purred; Helena quivered.
"I don't think that's a good idea," Helena sobered at the thought. Despite wanting it so much, there was something that claimed her needs. She knew this was an act of rebellion. We've done it. I've done it. "I think we should stop."
Sephiroth blinked. "If that's what you want, I just find it interesting that you come all the way here, wearing the dress I told you to wear, sucking me."
Helena swallowed the bile piling inside her, ready to overflow. She hadn't eaten yet; she wasn't planning to anyway. "I get neurotic for these things. I just... get nervous that I'm just a pity case."
Sephiroth chuckled, his hands touching his lips. "I think actions speak louder than words; I've always thought that. I think I should show you." Taking her hands in his, he led her to his couch. With a touch on her half-exposed chest, she was sent backward. His power was evident, and she was at his mercy. There was a flutter in her chest—fear. Sex and fear are part of the same network.
"Take me," Helena said breathlessly, the flutter bashing her brain in her skull now.
"Don't say that. It's too much." Sephiroth took her arms over her head. "I might not be able to stop."
"Then don't," Helena instigated, angling her hips to meet his. When did he take off his pants? How did I get here? What will I do next? She knew the only answer was to accept him within her. Two masses colliding with such force it was beguiling. JENOVA. Yes, one, together, inherently linked. She wondered if he knew. The thought was quickly dashed as he hit a sensitive area, massaging it with his thrusts. She cried out in ecstasy.
"You like this, don't you?" He said nothing above a whisper, which was so customary for the SOLDIER who rarely spoke in public, lest to a woman. There was something so frightening about a woman. Lucia made that comment once; an observation of how the younger Sephiroth acted so coolly in front of her yet so reserved, shrinking at her kind pats. In fact, this was the first time he touched a woman. What did she think of me, Sephiroth wondered, like he always did, especially when it came to the therapist.
"Yes," Helena called, hand searching for her hardened clit, anxiously searching for release. She moved her hips against his, instinctively; she had watched plenty of porn in her time, but this was different. The actual act was something so primal. She worried if he was enjoying himself, hands tightening around her wrists as hips began colliding, her wetness easing the girthy member. But the feeling of him inside her—fear and sex - was too much for her to handle.
"I'm cumming!" She screamed, not worried that his neighbours would hear. He had whispered something, pushing her further down rapture but she couldn't understand the sounds. Her hips still moved, long after the tenseness of her body subsided, not wanting the feel to escape her. It was so satisfying.
Helena looked at Sephiroth, a blush creeping on her face, unbearably hot. "Did you like it?"
"Please stop asking. I didn't finish, if that's what you were asking. But I'm not done." He commanded her to rise, her fluids sticking her legs together. In an effortless movement, Sephiroth turned Helena over and entered her from behind.
"Is this how you like it with Genesis?" Helena teased.
"Genesis liked to ride me. I just want to pull her hair and make you scream again." And he did just that. With one hand entangled in her curls and the other holding her hand behind her back, he angled his hips deeper inside, hitting spots Helena rarely dared to feel. Helena did indeed scream, asking for him to explore deeper and deeper.
"Please!" She cried. A rip of her license and everything else she felt she accomplished—just for this. Is it worth it? "Yes, please!"
Her demands were enough for Sephiroth to finish inside her. The thought of her carrying his children made him cringe, but there was something alluring about the thought. I just want to be normal. Helena wasn't entirely worried, just wanting, needing, and craving. But the thought did cross her mind. Does he feel normal with me?
"I'm afraid of what's next," Helena said truthfully, adjusting the fluids inside her.
"Perhaps I shouldn't have kissed you," Sephiroth lied. He looked at her, studied her shifting and her inability to maintain eye contact. Helena was now at his feet. There was a part that was satisfied. There was a piece of him that he needed more of. He only felt this way once. And he left him. She wouldn't. She couldn't.
From: zfair shinra
To: hmenninger shinra
Subject: URGENT
I know you may not remember me, we met during an examination. I've been working with Sephiroth for a bit and heard he locked himself in the R&D library. I'm worried. After Angeal left well I'm just worried.
If you can check up that would be great.
-Zack, First Class
Helena woke up to that message after an all-nighter analysing data. She was no longer built for that, sadly. Degrading? Maybe, she answered her thought. She feared the possibility. Kathelyn would probably say: "I told you so." But it was the only way to keep up, Helena pitifully explained.
None of them were normal. Helena had long ago disassociated herself from the term. Helena grew up anxious, the voices pounding in her head, worried she would be found out. When she heard about the project Hojo had constructed for civilians, starting with his researchers, she jumped at the chance to be something greater. She knew she was different from Sephiroth the moment he walked into her office. While Helena dreamed of a life beyond her, Sephiroth was surviving the one that was bestowed on him. Perhaps that's why she decided to try her hand at going to graduate school for psychotherapy—perhaps she would find the source of her own pain that made her manically search for something beyond herself.
She approached the door to the library, sneaking through the dimly lit room. Sephiroth was in the back, pacing, a book in hand. He was searching. Holding on. Perhaps on something bigger than simply surviving.
"Hey," Helena called in a hush, "I got you a latte."
Sephiroth's attention was split between the words clicking in his mind and Helena's voice. So maybe you can show some compassion? Even after all these years, he still had the sound of his voice so clear in his mind.
"And I got you some sugar. Not sure how much you want." She handed the little packets over with the warm cup.
"Thank you." He poured four packets, which surprised Helena – she never knew he had such a sweet tooth.
"What have you found so far?" Helena posited, looking at the titles of the books he took from their meticulously kept shelves.
Sephiroth shrugged. "How did you find me?"
"Zack contacted me. Not sure how he knew the fact that I know you."
"Angeal must have told him." Helena could have sworn the word "Angeal" lingered like spoiled milk in the man's mouth. Another one.
"You should take a break." Helena couldn't help it.
Sephiroth pointed to the cup. "I am."
"What about your nervous system?" Helena asked more as a joke than anything else, but Sephiroth, being who he was, took it as a sign of interrogation. In turn, he said nothing, taking a long drink from his cup. The caffeine would allow him to continue. He was so close to an answer. I'm built differently.
"If you need me, I'm here." Helena sat at the table meant for reading the endless number of redacted articles and books. She was going to wait and see. Something told her to stay. Something sinister. Something was beyond her. But she was going to stay.
"Thank you, Helena."
A/N: Having some real fun with this chapter. Looking at finishing this one shortly and heading into Safe in Your Lies (Written on Her Back is on a longterm hiatus). I hope Helena doesn't come across as the "saviour OC" trope. I think their relationship is entirely toxic and not okay. Lesson of the day: Don't fuck your therapists and know that if they try to with you, report! Thanks for attending my TED talk.
Song of the day: La fin du show, Les Cowboys Fringants