And you're just a slave like me, at least I know it's true.
Well, here's part 3! I'm not really happy with the ending. :| I've rewritten it several times so I guess I'll just leave it before I beat it into the ground.
Warnings: yaoi, adult content!
Rating: R
Pairing: Cloud x Kuja
Dedication: toffeethesnob, you keep me going, baby. ♥
When Cloud made his way to the Prima Vista the following day there was no sign of Kuja on the wooden stage. For a moment he thought to leave, figuring he offended the man in some way the day before - for example, he had made the mistake of asking if Kuja was all right afterward and had earned only a glare in return - but then he caught a faint scent of the man on the window. It wouldn’t hurt to look, he reasoned, finding the passage to the ship’s maze of hallways.
Kuja was waiting for him in the dressing room, precariously perched on the edge of a vanity like a songbird. “I was beginning to think you wouldn’t show,” he said, and even if the impatient tone of his voice said otherwise Cloud could see the momentary relief in Kuja’s eyes.
It seemed the day before had made them both uncertain. At the time the silence that had overtaken them had been comfortable and Cloud had felt some sense of fulfillment. Now he could hardly meet Kuja’s gaze and the other reacted in kind, treating the blonde much more carefully than he had before.
Cloud edged into the room, remaining silent for quite some time before he spoke. They kept meeting one another’s eyes and immediately looking away; what had Cloud been thinking, recklessly embracing a man like this? Still, when Kuja turned his head Cloud could see the dark marks his lips and teeth had left on the man’s white skin and a sense of satisfaction welled inside of him.
“I’ll keep coming,” he said at last, “until you tell me not to.”
“Obedient as always,” Kuja scoffed as he brushed his hair over his shoulder. “What a dull little puppet you are.”
For a moment Cloud felt silent, trying to find the words that would wipe the scowl from Kuja’s face and the sour tone from his voice. “I came to talk-“ he began.
Kuja chuckled. “Oh, is that what you came here to do? Talk?”
Closing his eyes, Cloud could still hear Kuja’s rough voice from the day before. When he spoke like this - confidently baiting the blonde - he did not sound too different. Cloud could feel his skin prickle with excitement just remembering it all, but as he looked back at Kuja he suppressed the rush of desire.
“That’s right,” he answered. “We need to be ready when the time comes.”
Silence settled between them again as Kuja watched him, observing the way Cloud’s eyes seemed to not only reflect the light but radiate their own color. Just what was Cloud, he wondered? Kuja had undressed the man, stripped him of his defenses, and had found nothing else out of the ordinary. Beside the scars that littered Cloud’s body he had nothing to hide; he was honest to a fault, unlike Kuja.
“Turns out I’m not really in the mood, after all.” He was beginning to rethink his decision, beginning to feel inferior to a puppet, and it was putting him in a foul mood. “Why don’t you try again tomorrow?”
“I’m not leaving,” he said. Cloud didn’t hesitate, standing firm in his decision.
Maybe it was because he had bedded the man the day before and he felt some sense of responsibility for it, but he didn’t want to be brushed off so easily. Why was Kuja remaining at the edge of his grasp? Every time he reached out his fingertips only brushed against the fabric of the man; every time he pulled his hand back there was nothing in his palm but air. Had this happened to him before? Had he been so close, and lost something so great the pain of it was nearly paralyzing?
Looking around Cloud spotted a familiar cloak amongst the costumes, and he grabbed it before he took hold of Kuja’s wrist. “Let’s go,” he said, pulling Kuja along after him.
“What are you doing?” Kuja demanded, though he did not pull his hand from Cloud’s grasp. Where they were going was obvious enough - they were retracing the steps he had led Cloud the day before - but he hadn’t expected this from Cloud. What was the boy thinking?
It was not until they were back in the dimly-lit prop closet - a chair wedged between the door and the floor - that Cloud looked back at him. “Something that isn’t boring,” he answered simply.
From the way his brow furrowed Kuja could tell that he was trying-trying to think of a way to please him, and a way for them to not end up slaughtered for what they were doing. Defying Chaos so blatantly would earn them an early grave, they both knew it, but Kuja knew that in Cloud there was a deep-seeded need to protect. Pulling such a fragile man into his schemes was cruel; he could already see the desperation building within Cloud.
“Entertain me, then,” Kuja bade, motioning to whatever it was that Cloud had grabbed.
“Not me.” Cloud shook his head. “It’s your turn.”
When Cloud held up the white cloak, red triangles wrapping the hem, Kuja flushed. Cat ears marked the hood, and he knew immediately where the blonde’s train of thought went. The day before, when he had finally been stripped of the last vestiges of his clothing, he had been unable to hide his tail. Once their desires had been sated Cloud had taken a gander at the appendage and Kuja had quickly slapped his hand away when the blonde tried to touch it.
“I’m not some kind of household pet that you can touch as you please,” he had scolded Cloud. More than anything he wanted to be sure Cloud realized that he wasn’t a primitive beast; he had spent his life trying to be seen as something more than a genome, after all.
Though he tried to come up with a reason to refuse the blonde now, in the end his protests were stayed by the look in Cloud’s eyes. It was maddening to have such a broken gaze on him; where were those hungry eyes from the day before? Cloud had made him feel needed, he had made Kuja feel as if his touch was for more than death, and he had become drunk off of that feeling.
If he had to degrade himself a bit to get that back, he supposed it was worth it.
When Kuja reached out for the cloak Cloud pulled it out of his reach. “Just the cloak,” he asserted.
Kuja stammered, the dim light hiding the flush that colored his fair skin, and covered it with a chuckle. “How very bold,” he commented as he slipped his gloves from his hands.
They hit the floor without any ceremony, and as he slipped his jacket over his shoulders he chanced a look at Cloud. The soldier rarely showed any expression, but desire was beginning to overtake his gaze. Kuja did not hide his devilish grin as he took his time peeling the inner jacket from his arms. “I’m not unused to putting on my own shows,” he told Cloud. “But I do charge a steep price.”
Cloud said nothing in response, merely watching as Kuja slid his legs out of his armored leggings, peeled the tights from his legs, and unhooked his belts and let them fall to the floor, his skirt covering the pile of clothing. The genome made the mistake of looking away for a moment, his gaze falling to this pile of discarded clothing, and the sound of Cloud’s footfalls drew his attention back too late.
The weight of the hood against his head was the first thing he registered, and then the warmth of Cloud’s body. Carefully the blonde smoothed the hem over Kuja’s silver hair, allowing the feathers to stick up like they had when Kuja had worn his tricorne. As he tied the black ribbon around Kuja’s shoulders he drew close, pressing his forehead against Kuja’s for only a breath before he took the man’s painted lips with his own.
This time Cloud needed no instruction or cues, his hand sliding gently along Kuja’s side as he deepened their kiss. As Kuja worked to remove Cloud’s bangles and other accoutrements he kept some semblance of control between them, only allowing Cloud to touch him where he wished with his sword-worn fingers. A new blister on his ring finger, an angry scrape on the back of his arm, a lightly healed wound on his abdomen-Kuja knew Cloud was not abstaining from battle, but in that moment it didn’t matter.
He had to hand it to Cloud, this was certainly not boring.
When Cloud had rid him of his briefs he trailed searing kisses down Kuja’s body, causing Kuja to grit his teeth to keep from vocalizing a moan he knew he would regret. “Stop that,” he ground out, feeling Cloud’s hand slide along his tail. Planning on glaring at the boy, when he caught Cloud’s gaze from where the blonde knelt at his feet, he felt his breath catch in his throat. Looking away he scoffed, his fingers playing with the spires of Cloud’s blonde hair.
“Don’t look at me with such lewd eyes,” he reprimanded. Cloud did not acquiesce, but Kuja did not protest again.
Kuja could not guess how long he let Cloud play with him, but the prop closet had been filled with the sounds of heated, heavy sighs and stifled moans for what felt like hours. Though Kuja had never asked him to be, Cloud was careful about where he left marks on his body, leaving them only where they would not be seen. It was clear that Cloud was thinking about their future every time he restrained himself from leaving the bruise of his teeth against the white expanse of Kuja’s stomach, but Kuja still did not want to think of it.
What fun would a world be that did not contain him? How would he pass the time if Cloud went before him? They were scenarios he did not want to entertain, and entertaining was practically in his blood.
For that reason, when he found himself bent over onto his knees, he did not speak against it. Cloud’s breath was hot against his back, the fabric of the cloak that separated them searing with every heated sigh. Against Kuja’s hip, just far enough back so that his skirt would cover it later, Cloud’s fingers left bruises.
“Hurry up,” Kuja prompted. He could feel that they were both at the end of their rope; he would not let Cloud drive him to the point of begging, no matter how much he wanted the blonde to beg him someday.
Cloud obliged, pushing the hem of the cloak up to rest against the small of Kuja’s back. It was because of situations like these that Kuja found showing others his tail distasteful. The hem of the hood was falling into his eyes as Cloud pulled Kuja against him, neither unable to suppress the moans that left their lips. Like a cat his tail was arched into the air, the silver tip brushing against Cloud’s chest. This was far more animalistic than he would have liked, even in the heat of passion, but one look over his shoulder at Cloud stayed any protest on his lips.
Truth be told, he would do anything to see that voracious look in Cloud’s blue eyes now. Seeing Sephiroth’s puppet come to life and show such will only in Kuja’s presence was all the reward that he needed. For now he did not mind playing the maiden’s role, especially when broken fragments of his name fell from Cloud’s lips. And he wanted Cloud to get comfortable in that position if only so that the blonde’s reaction would be richer when Kuja finally pushed him down. All in due time.
When they finally laid in the darkness of the prop closet, their desire sated for the time, Cloud turned on his side, facing away from Kuja. He did not make the same mistake he had the day before - as if Kuja needed to be treated like a delicate woman, he sneered - but Kuja wondered if the blonde was coming to resent him. Perhaps that would be better, Kuja reasoned, before Cloud did something foolish on his behalf.
This was all just for his own entertainment, after all.
“The root of our problem’s Chaos, isn’t it?” Cloud’s voice was still rough when he spoke but it sliced through the darkness as cleanly as a blade. Kuja glanced at his back, watching the steady contraction of his ribcage as he breathed instead of answering. He did not like where this was going.
“Only a complete idiot would,” he began, making it clear he was dismissing the notion.
“I plan to,” Cloud cut him off smoothly, cleanly. “If I have to,” he added, “to protect the things I care about.”
Kuja’s brows knit together; doing such a thing would be like throwing oneself into a fire, hoping that, by some chance, it would rain. “That’s the best you could come up with?” He jeered, more annoyed than he should have been.
“I thought about killing Sephiroth,” he admitted. “I thought about killing all of them, but that wouldn’t change anything. If I tried to get to Cosmos for help, I’d probably have to fight all of her warriors. I might do something that can’t be undone; I might have to hurt the people we care about.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Kuja replied flippantly, his mood souring at the thought of Zidane.
“There’s a boy with a tail like yours,” Cloud clarified. “It’s not a coincidence you’re both here, right?”
Kuja answered him with silence, unwilling to share so much, even with the blonde. “The girl from my world-I think I might have caused her to show up here.”
“Oh?” Kuja tried to sound uninterested. “Someone you care for, is it?”
Cloud was silent for a moment. When he spoke again it was with a tone more quiet and gentle than any the blonde had used around Kuja. “Yeah,” he verified. “I think so.”
Feeling irritation bubble up inside of him, Kuja tried to push it down again. “So you’ve decided to forfeit your life for her?” Cloud probably thought it was chivalric, Kuja just found it grating. “How noble.”
Rolling onto his back, Cloud turned his head to look at the genome, drinking in the sight of him with his hair mussed and his chest bare. Again he wore the contemplative, near-broken expression he had worn earlier in the day, but when he locked his eyes with Kuja’s there were signs of a hard resolve in his gaze. “Not just her,” he said softly.
Cloud was not like him. Cloud was a good man, a broken man, who had never had any choice about what side of the conflict he ended up on. Kuja knew he was taking advantage of it; he could not fathom Cloud wanting him on his own. It was all an elaborate trap from the beginning because Kuja had needed someone-anyone, he told himself-to manipulate and control so that he was not left as the weakest link.
“Sephiroth wasn’t jesting when he said something was wrong with his puppet,” Kuja’s tone was as biting as his words, if only to cover the rush of embarrassment. “There must be a screw loose in the blonde head of yours.”
“Kuja,” he prompted, and waited until Kuja met his gaze again to go on. “Can’t you,” he paused, took a breath, “rely on me a little?”
Taken aback by the blonde’s honesty, Kuja fell silent for a moment. “I don’t need to be protected,” he bit back.
“I know that,” Cloud defended. Normally he would have given up by now, but if he could push just a little more, then maybe… “There’s talk about you not fighting,” he added.
“Talk?” Kuja scoffed, already forming a good idea of who it was that would dare to say anything about him. Well, if they were already taking note of him it would likely only be a matter of time before he was put down; it was time to take action, much as he hated it.
“I’m guessing you tried to say something to defend me,” Kuja mused. “You probably exposed us both.”
“It wasn’t my place,” Cloud clarified, “I just listened.”
Kuja fell silent for a moment, making a soft noise as if in thought. “You could assist me,” Cloud ventured, “without having to fight.”
“What is it you like saying? ‘Not interested?’” Kuja smirked, slowly pulling the ribbon out of the hood that he had worn for the better part of their time together. “Let those fools run their mouths, I have my own plans.”
“You won’t tell me?” Cloud questioned, still trying to uncover Kuja’s plans. Didn’t a first mate support his captain’s plans? How could he if he did not know what they were?
“Not until you’ve been given a lesson in acting,” he chuckled, pushing himself up.
There was more he was going to say, more ridicule for Cloud’s hasty and brash plan in order to make him abandon the thought, but he saved it. He couldn’t say something as sweet as “don’t leave me,” wouldn’t allow himself to get that close, but he let his actions betray his thoughts. Deftly he moved to straddle the blonde soldier, and when Cloud lifted his hands to touch the fair-skinned genome Kuja caught his wrists. There was a heavy piano close by, and Kuja tied Cloud’s wrists to a leg with the silk ribbon.
How long could they manage to elude their demise? Kuja had once been an angel of death, an instigator of strife and chaos, but now it was this room he looked forward to returning to day after day. Thoughts of his own world, thoughts of his brother, thoughts of eidolons and theatres-those things could wait. If Cloud wanted to run off and get himself killed, Kuja wouldn’t ask him to stay-he would give him no choice about staying. If he had to push Cloud to the point of exhaustion day after day to keep him from leaving, Kuja would undertake the task.
“Don’t forget that I’m the hero in this act,” he whispered into Cloud’s ear. “Don’t overstep your role.”
The next day Cloud’s body would bear his marks, his wrists would be bruised, and his voice would be hoarse-everything Kuja wanted as a result of the first time he made the blonde his.
Warnings: yaoi, adult content!
Rating: R
Pairing: Cloud x Kuja
Dedication: toffeethesnob, you keep me going, baby. ♥
When Cloud made his way to the Prima Vista the following day there was no sign of Kuja on the wooden stage. For a moment he thought to leave, figuring he offended the man in some way the day before - for example, he had made the mistake of asking if Kuja was all right afterward and had earned only a glare in return - but then he caught a faint scent of the man on the window. It wouldn’t hurt to look, he reasoned, finding the passage to the ship’s maze of hallways.
Kuja was waiting for him in the dressing room, precariously perched on the edge of a vanity like a songbird. “I was beginning to think you wouldn’t show,” he said, and even if the impatient tone of his voice said otherwise Cloud could see the momentary relief in Kuja’s eyes.
It seemed the day before had made them both uncertain. At the time the silence that had overtaken them had been comfortable and Cloud had felt some sense of fulfillment. Now he could hardly meet Kuja’s gaze and the other reacted in kind, treating the blonde much more carefully than he had before.
Cloud edged into the room, remaining silent for quite some time before he spoke. They kept meeting one another’s eyes and immediately looking away; what had Cloud been thinking, recklessly embracing a man like this? Still, when Kuja turned his head Cloud could see the dark marks his lips and teeth had left on the man’s white skin and a sense of satisfaction welled inside of him.
“I’ll keep coming,” he said at last, “until you tell me not to.”
“Obedient as always,” Kuja scoffed as he brushed his hair over his shoulder. “What a dull little puppet you are.”
For a moment Cloud felt silent, trying to find the words that would wipe the scowl from Kuja’s face and the sour tone from his voice. “I came to talk-“ he began.
Kuja chuckled. “Oh, is that what you came here to do? Talk?”
Closing his eyes, Cloud could still hear Kuja’s rough voice from the day before. When he spoke like this - confidently baiting the blonde - he did not sound too different. Cloud could feel his skin prickle with excitement just remembering it all, but as he looked back at Kuja he suppressed the rush of desire.
“That’s right,” he answered. “We need to be ready when the time comes.”
Silence settled between them again as Kuja watched him, observing the way Cloud’s eyes seemed to not only reflect the light but radiate their own color. Just what was Cloud, he wondered? Kuja had undressed the man, stripped him of his defenses, and had found nothing else out of the ordinary. Beside the scars that littered Cloud’s body he had nothing to hide; he was honest to a fault, unlike Kuja.
“Turns out I’m not really in the mood, after all.” He was beginning to rethink his decision, beginning to feel inferior to a puppet, and it was putting him in a foul mood. “Why don’t you try again tomorrow?”
“I’m not leaving,” he said. Cloud didn’t hesitate, standing firm in his decision.
Maybe it was because he had bedded the man the day before and he felt some sense of responsibility for it, but he didn’t want to be brushed off so easily. Why was Kuja remaining at the edge of his grasp? Every time he reached out his fingertips only brushed against the fabric of the man; every time he pulled his hand back there was nothing in his palm but air. Had this happened to him before? Had he been so close, and lost something so great the pain of it was nearly paralyzing?
Looking around Cloud spotted a familiar cloak amongst the costumes, and he grabbed it before he took hold of Kuja’s wrist. “Let’s go,” he said, pulling Kuja along after him.
“What are you doing?” Kuja demanded, though he did not pull his hand from Cloud’s grasp. Where they were going was obvious enough - they were retracing the steps he had led Cloud the day before - but he hadn’t expected this from Cloud. What was the boy thinking?
It was not until they were back in the dimly-lit prop closet - a chair wedged between the door and the floor - that Cloud looked back at him. “Something that isn’t boring,” he answered simply.
From the way his brow furrowed Kuja could tell that he was trying-trying to think of a way to please him, and a way for them to not end up slaughtered for what they were doing. Defying Chaos so blatantly would earn them an early grave, they both knew it, but Kuja knew that in Cloud there was a deep-seeded need to protect. Pulling such a fragile man into his schemes was cruel; he could already see the desperation building within Cloud.
“Entertain me, then,” Kuja bade, motioning to whatever it was that Cloud had grabbed.
“Not me.” Cloud shook his head. “It’s your turn.”
When Cloud held up the white cloak, red triangles wrapping the hem, Kuja flushed. Cat ears marked the hood, and he knew immediately where the blonde’s train of thought went. The day before, when he had finally been stripped of the last vestiges of his clothing, he had been unable to hide his tail. Once their desires had been sated Cloud had taken a gander at the appendage and Kuja had quickly slapped his hand away when the blonde tried to touch it.
“I’m not some kind of household pet that you can touch as you please,” he had scolded Cloud. More than anything he wanted to be sure Cloud realized that he wasn’t a primitive beast; he had spent his life trying to be seen as something more than a genome, after all.
Though he tried to come up with a reason to refuse the blonde now, in the end his protests were stayed by the look in Cloud’s eyes. It was maddening to have such a broken gaze on him; where were those hungry eyes from the day before? Cloud had made him feel needed, he had made Kuja feel as if his touch was for more than death, and he had become drunk off of that feeling.
If he had to degrade himself a bit to get that back, he supposed it was worth it.
When Kuja reached out for the cloak Cloud pulled it out of his reach. “Just the cloak,” he asserted.
Kuja stammered, the dim light hiding the flush that colored his fair skin, and covered it with a chuckle. “How very bold,” he commented as he slipped his gloves from his hands.
They hit the floor without any ceremony, and as he slipped his jacket over his shoulders he chanced a look at Cloud. The soldier rarely showed any expression, but desire was beginning to overtake his gaze. Kuja did not hide his devilish grin as he took his time peeling the inner jacket from his arms. “I’m not unused to putting on my own shows,” he told Cloud. “But I do charge a steep price.”
Cloud said nothing in response, merely watching as Kuja slid his legs out of his armored leggings, peeled the tights from his legs, and unhooked his belts and let them fall to the floor, his skirt covering the pile of clothing. The genome made the mistake of looking away for a moment, his gaze falling to this pile of discarded clothing, and the sound of Cloud’s footfalls drew his attention back too late.
The weight of the hood against his head was the first thing he registered, and then the warmth of Cloud’s body. Carefully the blonde smoothed the hem over Kuja’s silver hair, allowing the feathers to stick up like they had when Kuja had worn his tricorne. As he tied the black ribbon around Kuja’s shoulders he drew close, pressing his forehead against Kuja’s for only a breath before he took the man’s painted lips with his own.
This time Cloud needed no instruction or cues, his hand sliding gently along Kuja’s side as he deepened their kiss. As Kuja worked to remove Cloud’s bangles and other accoutrements he kept some semblance of control between them, only allowing Cloud to touch him where he wished with his sword-worn fingers. A new blister on his ring finger, an angry scrape on the back of his arm, a lightly healed wound on his abdomen-Kuja knew Cloud was not abstaining from battle, but in that moment it didn’t matter.
He had to hand it to Cloud, this was certainly not boring.
When Cloud had rid him of his briefs he trailed searing kisses down Kuja’s body, causing Kuja to grit his teeth to keep from vocalizing a moan he knew he would regret. “Stop that,” he ground out, feeling Cloud’s hand slide along his tail. Planning on glaring at the boy, when he caught Cloud’s gaze from where the blonde knelt at his feet, he felt his breath catch in his throat. Looking away he scoffed, his fingers playing with the spires of Cloud’s blonde hair.
“Don’t look at me with such lewd eyes,” he reprimanded. Cloud did not acquiesce, but Kuja did not protest again.
Kuja could not guess how long he let Cloud play with him, but the prop closet had been filled with the sounds of heated, heavy sighs and stifled moans for what felt like hours. Though Kuja had never asked him to be, Cloud was careful about where he left marks on his body, leaving them only where they would not be seen. It was clear that Cloud was thinking about their future every time he restrained himself from leaving the bruise of his teeth against the white expanse of Kuja’s stomach, but Kuja still did not want to think of it.
What fun would a world be that did not contain him? How would he pass the time if Cloud went before him? They were scenarios he did not want to entertain, and entertaining was practically in his blood.
For that reason, when he found himself bent over onto his knees, he did not speak against it. Cloud’s breath was hot against his back, the fabric of the cloak that separated them searing with every heated sigh. Against Kuja’s hip, just far enough back so that his skirt would cover it later, Cloud’s fingers left bruises.
“Hurry up,” Kuja prompted. He could feel that they were both at the end of their rope; he would not let Cloud drive him to the point of begging, no matter how much he wanted the blonde to beg him someday.
Cloud obliged, pushing the hem of the cloak up to rest against the small of Kuja’s back. It was because of situations like these that Kuja found showing others his tail distasteful. The hem of the hood was falling into his eyes as Cloud pulled Kuja against him, neither unable to suppress the moans that left their lips. Like a cat his tail was arched into the air, the silver tip brushing against Cloud’s chest. This was far more animalistic than he would have liked, even in the heat of passion, but one look over his shoulder at Cloud stayed any protest on his lips.
Truth be told, he would do anything to see that voracious look in Cloud’s blue eyes now. Seeing Sephiroth’s puppet come to life and show such will only in Kuja’s presence was all the reward that he needed. For now he did not mind playing the maiden’s role, especially when broken fragments of his name fell from Cloud’s lips. And he wanted Cloud to get comfortable in that position if only so that the blonde’s reaction would be richer when Kuja finally pushed him down. All in due time.
When they finally laid in the darkness of the prop closet, their desire sated for the time, Cloud turned on his side, facing away from Kuja. He did not make the same mistake he had the day before - as if Kuja needed to be treated like a delicate woman, he sneered - but Kuja wondered if the blonde was coming to resent him. Perhaps that would be better, Kuja reasoned, before Cloud did something foolish on his behalf.
This was all just for his own entertainment, after all.
“The root of our problem’s Chaos, isn’t it?” Cloud’s voice was still rough when he spoke but it sliced through the darkness as cleanly as a blade. Kuja glanced at his back, watching the steady contraction of his ribcage as he breathed instead of answering. He did not like where this was going.
“Only a complete idiot would,” he began, making it clear he was dismissing the notion.
“I plan to,” Cloud cut him off smoothly, cleanly. “If I have to,” he added, “to protect the things I care about.”
Kuja’s brows knit together; doing such a thing would be like throwing oneself into a fire, hoping that, by some chance, it would rain. “That’s the best you could come up with?” He jeered, more annoyed than he should have been.
“I thought about killing Sephiroth,” he admitted. “I thought about killing all of them, but that wouldn’t change anything. If I tried to get to Cosmos for help, I’d probably have to fight all of her warriors. I might do something that can’t be undone; I might have to hurt the people we care about.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Kuja replied flippantly, his mood souring at the thought of Zidane.
“There’s a boy with a tail like yours,” Cloud clarified. “It’s not a coincidence you’re both here, right?”
Kuja answered him with silence, unwilling to share so much, even with the blonde. “The girl from my world-I think I might have caused her to show up here.”
“Oh?” Kuja tried to sound uninterested. “Someone you care for, is it?”
Cloud was silent for a moment. When he spoke again it was with a tone more quiet and gentle than any the blonde had used around Kuja. “Yeah,” he verified. “I think so.”
Feeling irritation bubble up inside of him, Kuja tried to push it down again. “So you’ve decided to forfeit your life for her?” Cloud probably thought it was chivalric, Kuja just found it grating. “How noble.”
Rolling onto his back, Cloud turned his head to look at the genome, drinking in the sight of him with his hair mussed and his chest bare. Again he wore the contemplative, near-broken expression he had worn earlier in the day, but when he locked his eyes with Kuja’s there were signs of a hard resolve in his gaze. “Not just her,” he said softly.
Cloud was not like him. Cloud was a good man, a broken man, who had never had any choice about what side of the conflict he ended up on. Kuja knew he was taking advantage of it; he could not fathom Cloud wanting him on his own. It was all an elaborate trap from the beginning because Kuja had needed someone-anyone, he told himself-to manipulate and control so that he was not left as the weakest link.
“Sephiroth wasn’t jesting when he said something was wrong with his puppet,” Kuja’s tone was as biting as his words, if only to cover the rush of embarrassment. “There must be a screw loose in the blonde head of yours.”
“Kuja,” he prompted, and waited until Kuja met his gaze again to go on. “Can’t you,” he paused, took a breath, “rely on me a little?”
Taken aback by the blonde’s honesty, Kuja fell silent for a moment. “I don’t need to be protected,” he bit back.
“I know that,” Cloud defended. Normally he would have given up by now, but if he could push just a little more, then maybe… “There’s talk about you not fighting,” he added.
“Talk?” Kuja scoffed, already forming a good idea of who it was that would dare to say anything about him. Well, if they were already taking note of him it would likely only be a matter of time before he was put down; it was time to take action, much as he hated it.
“I’m guessing you tried to say something to defend me,” Kuja mused. “You probably exposed us both.”
“It wasn’t my place,” Cloud clarified, “I just listened.”
Kuja fell silent for a moment, making a soft noise as if in thought. “You could assist me,” Cloud ventured, “without having to fight.”
“What is it you like saying? ‘Not interested?’” Kuja smirked, slowly pulling the ribbon out of the hood that he had worn for the better part of their time together. “Let those fools run their mouths, I have my own plans.”
“You won’t tell me?” Cloud questioned, still trying to uncover Kuja’s plans. Didn’t a first mate support his captain’s plans? How could he if he did not know what they were?
“Not until you’ve been given a lesson in acting,” he chuckled, pushing himself up.
There was more he was going to say, more ridicule for Cloud’s hasty and brash plan in order to make him abandon the thought, but he saved it. He couldn’t say something as sweet as “don’t leave me,” wouldn’t allow himself to get that close, but he let his actions betray his thoughts. Deftly he moved to straddle the blonde soldier, and when Cloud lifted his hands to touch the fair-skinned genome Kuja caught his wrists. There was a heavy piano close by, and Kuja tied Cloud’s wrists to a leg with the silk ribbon.
How long could they manage to elude their demise? Kuja had once been an angel of death, an instigator of strife and chaos, but now it was this room he looked forward to returning to day after day. Thoughts of his own world, thoughts of his brother, thoughts of eidolons and theatres-those things could wait. If Cloud wanted to run off and get himself killed, Kuja wouldn’t ask him to stay-he would give him no choice about staying. If he had to push Cloud to the point of exhaustion day after day to keep him from leaving, Kuja would undertake the task.
“Don’t forget that I’m the hero in this act,” he whispered into Cloud’s ear. “Don’t overstep your role.”
The next day Cloud’s body would bear his marks, his wrists would be bruised, and his voice would be hoarse-everything Kuja wanted as a result of the first time he made the blonde his.