Title: Make Me What You Are(2)
Warnings: Blatant vampirism
Rating: Strong R - non-graphic sex, blood
Notes: Part of an arc now in progress, takes place some time after Dirge of Cerberus (slight spoilers!)
Disclaimer: Characters property of Square/Square Enix
Candlelight was much preferred over any harsh artificial light, and the added warmth was more than welcome. Blood red tapers burned by the door, on the dresser, and on each side of the bed.
The bedroom door was closed, the curtains drawn so that not even a shred of moonlight could seep through.
It had been difficult for Vincent to come to terms with what he was about to do, and if it were not for that, the soft scent of roses, the black sheets, the candles, and the bottle on ice beside the bed with two delicate wine glasses beside it might have been one of the most romantic setups he'd ever done.
Yuffie blinked as she came out of the bathroom, her hair slightly damp. Vincent's hair was still a little damp as well, as he had showered just before setting up the bedroom. Neither had bothered to dress, considering that they would spend the evening, and likely much of the following day in bed.
"... Is this part of the ritual, or just atmosphere?" Yuffie asked, keeping her voice light to hide the tremble in it.
Vincent turned to look at her, smiling slightly as he adjusted the bottle in the ice bucket. "Both," he answered quietly. "Candlelight is easier on the eyes, the sheets will.. well.."
"Hide the evidence?"
"And be more comfortable... and this," Vincent gestured to the bottle, "will be absolutely imperative when you awaken."
Yuffie nodded, slowly. "I see."
Vincent sighed softly, and took the few steps to meet her by the foot of the bed. "Yuffie, are you certain that you want to go through with this?"
Yuffie nodded again, this time with fierce determination in her eyes. "Yes. I'm absolutely certain. I trust you, Vincent."
Vincent smiled slightly, his eyes warming a little at her show of her trust in him. He reached out and hugged her close, resting his chin on the top of her head for a moment. "I hope then, that this is successful. I couldn't bear it if it failed; if I failed; if I failed -you-."
"I trust you," Yuffie said again, simply, leaning her head against his chest, cheek resting against the star-burst-shaped scar over the left side. Vincent said nothing, only lifted his hand and stroked her hair, his clawed arm lifting to wrap around her body. He frowned to find her trembling.
"I'm all right, just nervous, don't worry. I'm not backing out of this, though, so don't even think of trying to convince me." Yuffie looked up at him, eyes as determined as they were when she convinced him to actually do it.
Vincent couldn't help the smile as he leaned down to kiss her forehead. "Don't worry, I have no intention. I know how much this means to you... and you can't know how much it means to me that you want this so adamantly." He moved away from her, then nodded towards the bed. "It's well past sunset. You'll need a lot of rest after... afterwards. We should get started."
He watched as she nodded, then slid up onto the bed, sliding to where the comforter and top sheet had been turned down, his eyes following her every move. Forcing the thought of what he was about to do from his mind, he followed her, then pulled the blankets up around them, his claw very carefully sliding under her.
"I have a question," Yuffie murmured as he pulled her close, running his hand down her side. At his noise of acknowledgment, she continued, "I thought this had to be done in intervals."
The soft chuckle startled her, but Vincent answered quickly, a murmur against her ear. "How many times have I fed from you, for pleasure, and in need?"
She gasped; she hadn't thought of that. "Then..."
"It was set up.. unintentionally. I never intended to complete it." He looked at her for a long moment before she growled softly at him.
"Well, now we are, so there's no use brooding on it. Just tell me what I have to do."
Vincent sighed and pulled her closer. "Right now," he murmured, "all you have to do is what feels right." He leaned to brush his lips against her cheek, and she murmured wordlessly in response. "When the time comes, I will instruct you." She nodded, her arms sliding around his shoulders as he leaned down, his mouth claiming hers in a kiss that was all-encompassing; pouring his nerves, his determination, his love, his fears all into one motion, one met with her own feelings in equal intensity.
She clung to him as if she feared that after all of this, he would leave. The hand sliding down one shoulder, tracing the contour of her collar bone, trailing over her breast made her rethink this.
His lips followed the trail his fingertips carved, soft suckling kisses; promises of what would follow later. He knew of only one way to make this fair – in case he failed, he had to make sure that there were no regrets in her mind.
And so he teased her; teased her until her body trembled, and the noises she made drove him nearly out of his mind. Even as she cried out his name in that way that sent chills down his spine, his lips tracing patterns across her stomach, tongue dipping into her navel before traveling lower, he teased.
Her hands tangled in the sheets beneath them, his hand traced down her hip, his claw was already teasing one inner thigh, encouraging them to part. Once he had the room to work, the claw retreated, pressed into the sheets beside her other hip where it could not cause damage; even after all this time, all the teasing he could do only lasted until she was mindless. With the way she moved, there was no telling what damage might be done.
His hand pressed against one hip, his tongue ran over the thigh his claw had teased, and she begged, breathlessly, shamelessly. But still he teased, her voice washing over him and making him ache with need, trying to bring her to the edge of the oblivion he would not grant himself to alleviate the ache.
Her voice trembled as she drew closer, and his eyes fluttered, lashes brushing against her skin as his tongue curled and stroked, teasing and encouraging at the same time, his fingertips stroking along her skin in such a way that pleaded for her to let go.
His name was half-moan, half-wail as it shattered the silence, and he worked her through, concentrating on the levels of her tremors, working until they had passed, and then, only then did he move to lay beside her, pressed against her side, waiting not-so-patiently for her to calm.
"Vincent?" she breathed, once she had regained control of her breathing.
"I only know of one way to do this," he murmured in answer, voice darkened with desire, thick with want. "It's the only way that feels right when I'm with you."
Yuffie's answer was a soft noise of assent before she shifted a little, her thigh brushing against his length. "Why are you hesitating then?"
"I'm not through with you."
Before she could answer, his fingertips were teasing her once more, and her reply was lost in a soft moan. Her arms threaded around his shoulders again as he moved to cover her, his tongue tracing a line down her neck, lips suckling softly at the spot he intended to bite.
"I can't take much more of this," she half-whispered, half-hissed against his ear. "Please..."
He would not, could not deny her, or himself, any longer. His hands both curled into the sheets as he sank into her depths, his breath ragged and warm against her ear.
And he felt it, as he began to move. The very hunger that had brought them into this predicament in the first place – rising, undeniable. It swept through him, riding on the waves of his own arousal, rising with every thrust.
"Ti.. tilt your head back," he murmured, his tone half-desperate.
She complied, and he could feel her trembling as she murmured his name again, questioning.
The world fell away. There was nothing but the sounds of their breath, and the soft moan of her name that spilled from his lips before his tongue soothed the spot against her throat again.
"Be still," he hissed.
And still she was as his name burst from her lips again, moaned as his fangs pierced her flesh.
Lust and blood lust combined in ways more dangerous than Vincent could have imagined. A small part of him reminded the rest of him that he had to complete the task, this was no tryst.
Her body moved with his, nerves set on fire by the bite, the sensation of his body against hers, within her, around her drove her nearly to the edge.
One of her hands slid up, threaded through his hair and gripped it, just enough to remind him that he could not escape. They were in this together now, for better, for worse, and somewhere in his mind, Vincent wondered if her determined argument for this counted as a marriage proposal.
Until death us do part he thought as he felt her pulse flutter. She was nearly there, and he was rapidly losing control.
He wanted to encourage her to let oblivion take her, but he could not let her go. He could only moan against her throat as he drank from her, working towards sweet release before it was too late.
He moaned, louder, feeling her tighten around him, and though he continued to move, it was difficult to concentrate. The urge to pull away, to cry out her name, to scream his triumph to the skies was stronger than he'd ever felt in the past.
He let her vocalize what he felt. He couldn't outlast her by much, and even as he spent himself in her wake, he could hear her voice, questioning as she murmured his name again.
But the beast was awake, alive, and reminding him that he could not pull free.
Even as she drifted back to reality, her pulse slowed. Vincent smothered a panicked urge to abort the process as Yuffie whimpered, the sound a fearful one. He sucked at the wound, encouraging the slowing flow, ignoring the soft sobs, the tears he could feel sliding down her face.
Her voice sounded again, this time in fear, but still he ignored her, he had to. He had to concentrate on the sweet, thick substance that he drained from her, had to concentrate on drinking her nearly dry.
He drew away when he could hardly feel her pulse; when her blood would no longer flow without significant aid.
Her eyes were glazed, her face tracked with tears. She made a questioning noise, looking at him, fighting to keep his face in focus.
He nearly choked at her fearful, but at the same time utterly trusting look. He tried to offer what was left of her an encouraging smile, but only managed to look apologetic.
His claw lifted and he took a few precious seconds to decide where to wound himself. It took only a moment for him to decide that his wrist would be easiest.
Yuffie made a noise of protest as she was reminded of just how sharp and deadly those digits were. Before she could speak, he lifted his wrist to her lips.
"Drink," he murmured softly. She hesitated, looking at him with eyes that were at once sleepy and disbelieving. "Yuffie, you must, love," he whispered, fighting to hide his own revulsion at what he was doing to her, "you will die if you don't."
She whimpered again, and she leaned up, her tongue slipping out to taste him. She lifted as the first drops touched her tongue, and sat up with his claw supporting her back.
Suddenly, she understood the hunger he felt, as her hands lifted, holding his hand and wrist still as she greedily drank. A part of her felt sickened, but she ignored it.
Before she wanted him to, he drew his wrist away, letting his body heal it. She whimpered again, licking her lips and turning her glazed eyes to him. "Why did you stop me, Vincent?" Her voice was momentarily cold, demanding in a way that was nothing of the Yuffie he knew and loved.
"You need rest, and it would do no good to bleed me dry," he murmured, suppressing a shudder at her tone.
"Oh, right..." she said, her voice sleepy once again, sounding sated. She shifted, murmuring to him that she was cold as he lay her down once again, gently curling himself around her.
A moment's silence stretched before, very suddenly, Yuffie spoke, her tone slightly panicked. "Vincent, I'm dying, aren't I? That's why I'm so cold, isn't it?"
Vincent closed his eyes, the weight of the reality causing his heart to clench. "Only for a short time," he murmured, "you will revive when the morning comes." At least, I pray to anything listening that you will...
Her answer was a soft sob. "Stay with me," she pleaded. "Don't let me go."
"I have no intention of moving, Yuffie," he murmured. And if I have failed, I never will again.
No sunlight penetrated the dark room; the candles had spent themselves long before Vincent allowed himself to doze off. Yuffie was cold as ice in his arms as he let his mind repeat 'please let this have worked with no adverse effects... I love her too much...' like mantras, willing them, as he had willed nothing else before in his life, to be the truth.
His eyes opened to darkness. He shifted, hoping perhaps Yuffie was warm again, but to his horror, she was as still and cold as Death. Before he let himself panic, he looked at the clock, resting on the bedside table opposite the one where the chilled bottle rested in waiting.
It was very much morning.
No... His heart began to pound, aching with every beat. He shifted, tracing her cheek with his hand, nearly wincing at the chill. Usually she would wake, glaring at him, take his hand and warm it.
This time there was no response.
Fighting back the urge to scream in vexation, cry, or worse, hit something, he shifted, sliding his arm from beneath her, and turning over onto his back, eyes closed. He was weak, he knew, from letting Yuffie nearly drain him. He needed more than rest; he needed to feed, loath though he was to admit it. He looked at Yuffie again.
Her skin was pale, as though she hadn't been in the sun. She was never out of the sun. He winced as he realized she had a complexion that was remarkably close to his pallor. In his youth, he was as tan and vibrant as she had been before...
"What have I done?" he murmured, reaching out his hand to brush her cheek again. "I never. . . I never should have let you convince me. I never should have touched you. If you even wake, I have condemned you to the existence of the damned, and if you do not..." He closed his eyes to fight the sting of tears - another thing this ninja-princess had returned to him. "Sweet Leviathan, why did I let myself destroy you?"
Her hand lifted, and took his. It was warm, as it should have been. "Quit talking like that, Vin. In fact, shut up and hold me. Should I be this cold?"
Letting the tears fall, relief flooding through him, he turned again, pulling her close to his body, her skin still almost icy. "It will fade. When you have warmed, you will need to feed. You probably are already feeling it."
"Mmn," she replied, snuggling against him so that she was pressed against him fully. "It's different than being hungry..."
"But at the same time, it's very similar. You'll learn to recognize the difference clearly with time." He gently rubbed her back, trying to restore warmth to her, even as he pulled her towards the middle of the bed, away from the relative chill at he edges. "Are you warming any at all?"
"Mm-hmm," she murmured. "Sleepy again, though."
"Stay awake," Vincent murmured, though there was the slightest edge of panic in his voice. He moved, leaning away from her to get at the bottle on the bedside table.
Yuffie looked at him, curiously, wondering what he was doing. Her answer came quickly as his clawed hand urged her to sit up, and his human hand held a wine glass mostly filled with a dark red, mostly opaque liquid. She took it with a sightly trembling hand. "Uh.. Vince..?"
"Blood and red wine; a forty-sixty blend. This will help you to regain your strength, and ensure you are not one hundred percent reliant." Vincent turned so she could lean against him, a filled glass in his hand.
Yuffie looked at the glass, then dubiously took a sip from the glass. Warmth filled her at once, as if she has just taken down a full glass of heavy sake, but without the tipsy, dizzy feeling. "Oh.." she murmured.
"Both of us are drained," Vincent murmured. "We need to rest, we need to drink this, and we will need to eat something normal, to make certain neither of us become dependent on blood alone."
"I didn't realize just how complicated this was going to be." Yuffie's voice was apologetic.
"It... may be worth it in the end, or it could damn us for the rest of time. I know now that as long as I am with you, I could withstand the very infernos of the Hells themselves if I had to. I will not take back what I said earlier. I know that you wanted this, but... Yuffie, the future is still unknown."
Yuffie looked up at him to find that he was gazing at her with such emotion that it stole her breath away for a moment. But only a moment. "I wasn't about to die and leave you to go back to brooding like you do. I would rather face the infernos of the Hells than find myself in my Promised Land to face eternity without you, or to be returned to life as someone, or something that has no recollection of a man named Vincent Valentine, who may yet be wandering the planet or may be alone, buried still living in a personal hell unable to find release."
Vincent blinked at her over his glass, lowering it slowly. "I had intended to follow you."
Yuffie sat up a little straighter, her eyes widening. "Vincent! You wouldn't dare-"
Vincent reached out his claw to rest the pad under the razor sharp tip against her lips. "No. Hear me out." Yuffie went quiet, anger still in her eyes at his proclamation. "I would dare. Oh I very much would dare." His voice took on a dangerous tone. "I would rather die by my own devise than hope to find someone as dear to me as you have become. I would have followed you. My heart would die. I would die inside. There is no greater death than the death that never grants you peace. I did not die for Lucrecia. I sank into despair for not stopping her. Loving her was nothing as pure and bright as loving you. Loving you does not burden on my heart; loving you frees it." He brought his glass to his lips and drank from it.
Yuffie watched him before sipping from her own. "I... didn't realize that it..."
"I meant for you to never know, but now... I will keep nothing from you knowingly and willingly. If this has worked an you truly are as immortal as I, then..."
"Then there can be no secrets," Yuffie finished.
They were quiet for a few minutes, then Yuffie looked down at her left hand, at the ring that encircled her finger; the reminder Vincent had given her. She raised her glass to him. He looked at her curiously.
"To Eternity," she murmured. He raised his glass to touch hers. "Though I think it may just have been easier if I'd just asked you to marry me."
Vincent laughed softly. "That's just not our style, is it?"
"No. You have to go and make things complicated," Yuffie teased, her smile easing the last of the ache in his heart. Things were going to be just fine.