Final Fantasy VII belongs to Square-Enix; if it belonged to me...well... you can probably imagine what the result of that would be.
This fic is post-game and ignores AC and DC, and will probably ignore most, if not all, of CC as well. The first few chapters will have no dialogue, and dialogue will remain minimal throughout, because that was a restriction I posed when I began writing it, to help me develop my descriptive abilities.
Will be Yaoi of the Cloud x Sephiroth (and vis versa) variety, with hints of Cid x Vincent (and/or vis versa).
A Matter of Control
The smell of decay pervaded the room – a vaguely nauseating stink of dust, mold, and rotting wood. His eyes opened slowly, lethargically, and the sight that greeted them was far from a cheerful one. The room was dark; only the faintest light, emanating from the crack under the door across the room, gave any sense of dimension, but at first he couldn't make out any more than the borders of the chamber and a few dark blocky shapes on the ground. He was bound, he noted, in a standing position against a wall. His wrists and ankles were enclosed in metal, his arms pulled out to the sides in their immobile restraints, and the cuffs on his ankles seemed to pull downward, keeping his feet planted. There was also a metal ring around his neck, but nothing limited its movement. He could feel stone against his naked back and beneath his bare feet; he was clothed only in a pair of loose cloth pants.
Time passed and his eyes adjusted to the darkness further. He could now see that the dark blocky shapes on the floor were coffins, some opened, others closed. Looking to his left and right he could see the thick restraints around his arms bolted into the stone walls. He leaned forward and looked down to see that a length of chain ran between the cuffs on his ankles, which appeared to be just long enough to allow walking. There were also rings on either side of the cuffs that had been latched to a bolt sticking out of the floor.
The prisoner snarled at his predicament, or tried to, but no sound came out. A silence spell, he realized. He began to struggle against the restraints, but they didn't budge despite his inhuman strength; still, he didn't give up until he felt his flesh give way under the metal edges, and the copper scent of blood reached his sensitive nose.
Footsteps echoed in the corridor outside, stopping before a heavy wooden door. A key scraped in the lock, the latch released, and then there was the sound of the knob turning and the door squeaking open on slightly rusted hinges. Light momentarily blinded the captive, but his sight adjusted quickly as a single man entered the crypt and malice-filled peridot eyes met cold sapphire.
The captor strode forward and the captive struggled against the restraints again. The newcomer reached toward the collar with his left hand, and when his fingers touched it the captive immediately collapsed into unconsciousness.
He woke some time later, to find that the pain in his wrists from the struggles had abated, and a glance to one side confirmed that his wounds had been dressed. His captor stood in front of him, and the prisoner whispered the syllables of the other man's name.
The blonde didn't give any sign to indicate that he had understood, just turned and left the room shutting the door behind him. Sephiroth collapsed fully against his restraints; dirty, tangled silver hair falling across his face like a curtain.