Title: One Last Reunion – Chapter 3

Fandom: FF7

Rating: M, NC-17

Warnings: DoC timeline and AU. PWP-ish.

Characters: Cloud, Zack, Vincent and other FF7 characters.

Summary: One last reunion to right all that had gone wrong. Most FF7 characters appear. Post AC and DoC, AU. WARNING Contains scenes of Dark and Evil Zack with a helpless Cloud.

A/N : I'm feeling a little perverted tonight with visual imagery. A minor cross-reference to my other fic "A Momentary Rest", marked (1). Nothing significant, really :-) Sections in italics are inner thoughts and voices. Please R&R!

This fic is officially AU. This chapter was written based on one particular FMV from DoC (I don't even own or play the game), and then I realized the whole thing's gone horribly off-tangent when I found the game script much, much later.

So, for all intents and purposes in regards to DoC, let's just assume that (1) the WRO headquarters had been incinerated after the DG counterstrike, (2) the heroes (including Vincent and Cloud) and WRO survivors actually gathered at some remote location to lick their wounds and regroup prior to the famous assault, and (3) the story and roles of female DoC characters have been intentionally screwed up because this is YAOI lala-land.

OKAY let's get on with the smutty PWP!


Night falls. Their motel room is small, dark, and cold from an earlier thunderstorm (1).

A shiver runs up his spine when he feels the chill in the darkness.

Zack didn't realize that he had switched on the bedside lamp until he hears a loud moan on the other end of the small bed.

His breath hitches when he opens his eyes, and he feasts upon the sight that greeted him. He is straddling the thighs of a younger blond man who looked no older than a teenager. The blonde's oversized gray shirt had been pushed up to his chest, pink nipples barely peeking from underneath the cotton cloth, and his underpants bunched up at the ankles, revealing an enticing vertical expanse of pale youthful skin glowing in the dim yellowish light, with the hollows between collarbones, slight abs and the navel dipping shyly into shadow.

A warm, living body that yielded willingly to Zack's touches. It is a mouth-watering sight.

Caressing the boyish cheeks with the back of one hand and carefully tucking away strands of spiky blond hair, he is mesmerized by how soft the flushed skin feels, the way tiny specks of light swirl in pleasure-hazed Mako-blue eyes, and how those kiss-bruised petal-soft lips parted, hot breaths coming out in little white clouds.

Cloud. Recently, he is able to remember the boy's name whenever he succumbs to that raw, primal urge on cold nights such as this.

Not always. But sometimes.

Zack has lost count of how many nights he found himself sharing a bed, a blanket or just plain body heat with Cloud since they were on the run. But he knows that when the nights are cold, when he is not too exhausted from their journey, or when he isn't beating the shit out of himself for doing things – things he had resignedly told himself that was out of his control – to his companion, he would find himself lying on top of Cloud. In one way or another.

To hell with dreams and pride. He's a monster. As all SOLDIERs are.

Zack remembers that his other hand is still holding his hard, throbbing arousal against Cloud's softening one. Two cum-slickened cocks pressed against each other in Zack's large, calloused palm. He had stroked both of them easily, but he was feeling rather generous by directing the best and most sensuous touches towards Cloud's. His Cloud.

No wonder the boy moaned so loudly before. Twice tonight. Zack has no qualms of eliciting a third one.

Zack could not resist letting his fingers trace lazy patterns down and past the slender neck, briefly lingering on the smooth, slim chest and gently pinch twin rosebuds that had perked up from Zack's tender ministrations.

He dips a forefinger into the valley of Cloud's navel, scooping a viscous sticky drop from the puddle of white. Lifts for a taste, and finding himself licking it clean like a cat.

Slightly warm. Tanginess of a sexually-aroused male.

Sweetness of apples and boy-innocence.


Something awakens. Burning. Boiling.

Zack feels the familiar presence and he immediately grits his teeth. Anticipating, waiting. His cock rises a little higher than before, and he feels his blood rushing with a quickening heart rate, responding to the sudden surge of adrenaline and arousal singing in his blood.

A voice beckons.

More, it calls out to him.

That raw primal hunger must be satiated.

Zack cuts off a groan through pursed lips, feeling that heat blossoming deep inside him at an inhuman speed, finally pooling in his groin. Breaths coming faster, he locks his violet-blue gaze on Cloud's, who is still staring off-space, and the predatory glint he knows that is shining from his eyes conveys an unspoken promise to the blonde.


Zack pulls off his nightshirt and yanks away his loose pants, snarling only when one of the legs snagged at his knee. He feels sweat breaking out on his back and trembling hands as he violently pulls Cloud closer. One quick flip of strong wrists, he has the boy's thin legs hooked over his shoulders. He dives forward and leans hard against Cloud lightly-muscled thighs, bowing the boy into an uncomfortable U-shaped position.

Zack tilts up the boy's chin with a strong, bruising grip on the jaws, before crushing his lips against the other. There is no tenderness in that contact. Only soaring lust and a terrifying prelude to the blonde's fate, as tongue enters forcefully through petal-soft lips and mashes against teeth and inner cheeks. Zack inhales deeply, sucking lungfuls of air from the smaller boy between shoving lips and grinding noses in a frenzied, heated one-sided display of sexual dominance.

Mako-enhanced senses detect an unmistakable whiff. The scent of fear. He could not help but to grin ferally amidst the wet, saliva-covered kisses that left Cloud with swollen, cut lips. Finally, deciding that it is enough, Zack releases Cloud's lips with a sloppy slapping sound.

Mine… only mine and mine alone, he growls hungrily. His hands busied with raking fingernail trails all over the blonde's chest, the curve of his sides, and the slim waist. Zack feels the heavy weight of his cock bobbing hard in mid-air, aching for sweet friction and the bliss of being engulfed in youthful body heat.


Zack fervently nuzzles the blonde's thighs, nipping, biting and sucking harshly, intent on leaving marks on the unscarred skin. His fingers having thoroughly explored the boy's body, moves down to twirl the boy's pubic curls, almost tenderly combing the fine blond hair there.

"Za.." he hears the blonde moan. Zack ignores the sound. He spits on both hands, and rubs up his cock to form a crude lube of saliva, pre-come and traces the boy's cooling semen. Zack shudders when his fingernails brushed the veins lining the thick hard flesh, and downwards to caress achingly heavy sacs. Feverish with desire and certain that he is ready, he guides his rock-hard arousal into the sweet, inviting ass.

A semi-erect cock that had already cummed twice comes into view. Zack's smile twisted into a cruel grin.

"Hurry, hurry… it's my turn," he says, rubbing his cock greedily, demanding access to the pleasure which he craves.

"Zack.."A weak whimper this time. Cloud is staring at him, unfocused. Is he pleading for an end to the madness? Begging for more? Zack couldn't identify which; he is fast drowning in the fiery need to break into the blonde, and is well past the point of listening to anything but his pulsating desire.

Zack watches through glazed, wide Mako-glowing eyes as the bulbous purple-red cockhead slowly, ever so slowly, penetrated that hot entrance. The slickened flesh slides in easily once he is past that stubborn ring of muscle. He could feel Cloud stiffen with pain. He didn't prepare the blonde at all.

Unable to hold back any longer, Zack thrusts forward relentlessly. A soft cry was muffled, left unheard.

He feels pleased.


Sometime during the night, Zack realized he had turned Cloud over to lay face down. He didn't want to see that intimately familiar face anymore – the painful expressions reminded him too much of the terrible sins committed by his hands. He wonders if it happened after their third round. Or was that the fourth? He couldn't recall; the past hours had been a blur, the details incoherent and slowly slinking into the depths of nighttime shadows. Vision darkens. Sweet, merciful fatigue had finally overcome him.

The last thing that Zack remembers is the vague feeling of lying atop the back of the blonde, his strong arms wrapped protectively around the smaller body in a tight embrace. Sweaty, blissfully sated and still sheathed deeply inside the blonde. The last vestiges of a mind-numbing orgasm dribbles weakly from his pulsing, but softening arousal, leaking out to the bedsheets when the night's worth of passion turned out to be too much for the younger man to handle.

Their motel room is small, dark, and cold from an earlier thunderstorm.

A shiver runs up his spine when he feels the warmth surrounding him in the darkness.


Cloud woke up in the middle of the night. The clock ticked on, showing him the hour being an ungodly 3 a.m. in the morning. He mentally did a quick check on himself. He was wearing his blue SOLDIER-type uniform, the sleeveless top and denim pants still securely clinging onto him, and without the belts, pauldrons and other accessories as expected for a reasonably comfortable nighttime attire. No cuts, no bruises, and no after-effects of status ailments. He wasn't screaming, he wasn't hyperventilating and he wasn't thrashing on the bed. A thin sheen of sweat covered his forehead and limbs, probably due to the faulty air-conditioning. One small lamp was lit, casting a faint light in the room. First Tsurugi was at his bedside, standing against the wall exactly the way it was before he fell asleep. Everything seemed normal.

It was just a sudden instinctive reaction to open his eyes, similar to when one's biological clock sets off for an early start to the day, except that it was at an ungodly 3 a.m. in the morning.

And he felt sticky there.

"Ramuh's beard!" he cursed in a low, sleep-raspy voice, and stumbled awkwardly out of the single bed, nearly tripping over the blankets that twisted around his legs.

Cloud quickly grabbed the extra pair of pants from his pack and ran to the bathroom. He was extremely glad that the group had decided to give him his private suite with an attached shower and bathroom. He silently thanked Shiva for cold edge and grumpiness he'd shown earlier that evening when the group gathered at the inn. Everyone thought he needed his personal space, and Tifa didn't object to that, thankfully. In actual fact, Cloud just needed time to sort through his thoughts and to seek the much-needed calm before the coming war.

Outside the small inn, airships and ground vehicles were being armed and prepared under the cover of darkness. Squadrons of surviving WRO soldiers camped and patrolled around the tiny, secluded but mostly-deserted unnamed town that was located between Kalm and their final destination, the Deepground-infested Midgar.

Cloud had just slipped into a fresh new pair of pants when he heard a soft knock.

"Cloud?" Vincent's baritone voice was instantly recognizable, even behind closed doors.

"Y-yeah," he called out with a restrained voice, not wanting to create any commotion in the dead middle of the night. He stuffed the soiled pants into a bag and kicked it under his bed, before treading lightly to the front of the room. Smoothing his spiky blonde hair as best as he could, he hoped he would look at least presentable and not suspicious.

Cloud turned the door knob carefully, expecting to see one, or perhaps a few, concerned faces. He was a known loner and prone to snapping at people who had come too close, but friends at AVALANCHE still worry for the blonde.

Cloud was mildly surprised, though, when he found himself staring at stoic, glinting crimson eyes framed by deathly pale complexion and long black hair. Clad only in his black jacket and pants, Vincent blended almost too well to the darkness in the inn's faintly-lit hallways.

"I heard some noises a while ago," the ex-Turk said, breaking the silence. Cloud grimaced inwardly, uncertain of what Vincent had actually overheard over the inn's not-so-thin walls. The raven-haired man had acutely keen senses, after all.

"I-I'm fine. Really. I'm okay. Just a, er.. ah.. vivid nightmare," the blonde stammered back, having not upped his defenses in time. He was nervous, like a suspect in an interrogation room with spotlights aimed at him – although it was only a single statement from the ex-Turk.

One second too late; Cloud mentally kicked himself for blurting out that magic word.

Vincent arched an eyebrow, gripped the door frame with a clawed hand, and leaned into the entrance. Predator-like crimson eyes searched the blonde's face for telltale signs of… something. Cloud shivered at the closeness, and the way the raven-haired man seemed to tower above him; a looming shadow in the night. He could feel warm breath tickling his neck, and his skin prickled with the sensation of the other man's body heat. The loud hammering in his chest drowned the silence of his bedroom. For a moment, Cloud felt his strength falter and he panicked.


Cloud staggered back, which prompted the ex-Turk to step forward. With his good hand, he steadied the blonde with a firm grip on one lean forearm. Cloud muttered a quiet word of thanks as he gingerly padded back to the bed. The floor seemed to feel chilled against his bare feet, although summer was at full swing at that time of the year.

Vincent poured a glass of water for him, which he gratefully accepted. He downed it rapidly and placed the glass on the bedside table, feeling a little more relaxed and calmed.

"You know I don't remember the details. These nightmares.. damn, I'm so fucked up," he muttered, fingers raking his hair out of habit. Mako-blue eyes downcast, he felt guilty and embarrassed for showing his weaker side.

Of all the members in AVALANCHE, Vincent was the only person he had confided to about his troubled sleep. There were recurring nightmares about the past, which he had no memory of when he wakes – that was as much as both of them knew. Cloud was certain there was more to his torment; soft, indistinct voices whispered words at unexpected times, leaving him confused, and more often than not, shaken. Compounded with the gaps in his memories, and that ever-present threat of Sephiroth, Jenova or some cataclysmic Shinra-made menace surfacing again in this world, his guessed that his troubles were far from over.

There was a creak, and Cloud looked up to see Vincent closing the door. He anxiously craned his neck, wondering if—

"Don't worry, Tifa, Yuffie and Barrett are still asleep. Reeve and Cid are still finetuning the attack strategies up in the Sierra," the ex-Turk answered curtly.

"Ah," Cloud had nothing in reply to that, and shifted uncomfortably where he sat on the bed. Vincent was a perceptive man, indeed.

"I've got sharper senses than the others, you know," he added. Cloud nodded in understanding. So, that's why he was able to hear... whatever noises from this room, while the others didn't, he thought.

Cloud realized belatedly that Vincent had intentionally flicked his gaze towards a spot underneath the bed, before giving an odd look at the blonde.


Cloud froze for a second, before instinctively squirming further into his bed and pulling the tossed blanket across his legs. He stared at the floor, feeling the heat rising in his cheeks, and he briefly wished he could shrink and disappear underneath the bed covers.

"It's… never been like this before," Cloud stuttered, wincing when that sounded more like an embarrassed squeak. Lies, Cloud. You wake up so many times in the night, at first terrified, but lately you're pleased with your dreams, aren't you, boy? How does it feel to ravage that warm little body and claim it for your pleasure? Hmm? Do you like it? Oh, you do, of course you do, you've cummed so hard. You could have screamed and shouted, you could have cried and whined, but it feels good, doesn't it, Cloud?

"Do you—" want to talk about it? Oh no, it's a secret. No, Cloud.

"No!" Cloud shouted heatedly, and gasped when he realized he was too loud. His fingers grasped at the blanket, twisting it until the edges threatened to tear. Vincent stared at him, obviously startled by the outburst, and stepped back.

It's my dark little secret. Mine, the dreams, the pleasure.

Mine… only mine and mine alone.

"Like I said, I don't recall the details anyway," Cloud said grimly, rubbing his forehead wearily as he feels the drain from that psychotic episode. Voices talking to him inside his head. Go away. Shut up. Please. Leave me alone, Vincent Valentine.

The ex-Turk would understand, he thought. This wasn't the first time the ex-Turk caught him waking from a nightmare.

Cloud yelped when a small sachet landed on his thigh. The words "Dream Powder" were printed on the cloth. He glanced up expectantly.

"You know we've an important mission at sunset tomorrow, and we need you at the frontlines of the first ground assault squadron. Get some rest, Cloud," Vincent stated, arms crossed and with neither anger nor worry in his voice. Part of Cloud was relieved that the ex-Turk didn't pursue the issue, but he was also a little disappointed.

"Yeah. Sorry about that," Cloud replied with an apologetic tone. He was to lead the ground assault in his trusted Fenrir, paving the way for the missile-launching trucks and distracting the DG ground forces long enough for a successful airstrike. Hopefully, that would also buy enough time for the hoverboards to drop safely and infiltrate the Tsviet's den. And then he and his teammates will have sole responsibility of shutting down the Mako reactors for the final showdown. Cloud sighed at the burden resting on his shoulders.

"We're counting on you," Vincent said with a little smile, and that caught Cloud off-guard. An rare encouragement. Having spent much time with the mysterious raven-haired man, Cloud could more or less discern the underlying meaning to the ex-Turk's words : I'm counting on you. I trust you. I believe you can make it. Place your trust in me. Trust me.

He wondered if he could trust the ex-Turk to that extent.

Vincent wished Cloud a good night's sleep was about to leave him to his rest when the blonde thought of something.

Oh no, it's a secret. No, Cloud.


The raven-haired man paused as his clawed hand reached for the door. His back still facing Cloud, Vincent cocked his head and waited for the blonde to continue.

"I.. what do nightmares actually mean?" Cloud asked, and added hurriedly when he thought Vincent didn't understand his question, "To you, that is."

Cloud imagined the perplexed look on Vincent's face from his sudden and unexpected question, but he was surprised (again) when the ex-Turk simply shrugged.

"Forgotten memories from the past. Things your mind and body didn't want to remember."

A pause.

"Or a foretelling of a future. Things that you might do. Destiny," Vincent added with a wave of his clawed hand, "Who knows?" There was a hint of a smile in the voice.

"The… past," Cloud whispered, already lost in thought and reminiscing some of the more pleasant memories of his days as a Shinra trooper.

"Sometimes, what they show is the reality… and what you remember, that is the illusion."

Cloud looked up, but the door was already firmly shut.


Vincent stood outside the closed door, leaned heavily on the wooden frame and released the breath he had held for far too long. Sweet Odin's blood, he was certain he saw Mako-blue eyes flashed brightly and turned into cat-like slits for a millisecond during that outburst.

He wondered if the younger man noticed the slight waver in his footsteps when he left the room.

He also wondered if Cloud realized he had overheard him crying out a name that had not been mentioned for the past three years… in the pained, choked and lustful way that the ex-Turk knew too well.


A/N : I admit, I don't know where this is going (thwacks the Confused!Muse). Like I said, this is a PWP. Feel free to give ideas for upcoming chapters! Oh ya, the magic word that Cloud mentioned was "nightmare".

Anyway, please keep feeding the muse with cake! If there's bitter dark chocolate or coffee beans on it, you can be sure it's gonna be a dark, evil road ahead… but if there's strawberries and candy sprinkles, then maybe things will become sweeter and fluffier…