by Chauni
Intimacy, for them, was beyond the flesh of bodies and of spatial dimensions, down to the sole core of a created figure. There was no need for muscles, for bones, for tendons and tissue, for intestines that bound and lungs that inflated, just as there was no need for hearts that ached, and hair that twisted around elongated fingers.
They were beyond that. They were...
I will... I promise...
A gasp, a sigh in consciousness only, in an emerald plane where the soul was broken but whole, fragmented and exchanged. One was content to offer, to give, to sacrifice, and the other was to take, to take for her sake, HER sake, a goddess, their love, their goal.
Consume me... take me...
A vessel, a lovely shell, and he was a pretty thing, molded and created with sensual lips that curved sweetly around the words he dared to speak. Reunion, and it was beautiful. Would be beautiful. Because what greater gift could one give to someone other than their entire being?
I am whatever you allow me to be...
They were waiting on him, all of them, waiting in the Vast, and he would bring them home. Would bring them a finale, a lovely little dramatic closing. Would give them the world, and himself. Would be the savior and the destroyer, would bring about the ending with a hell of a beginning, all for his sake, and Her sake.
He smiled before he had a mouth to do it with, and was devoured by fanaticism and lust.
I am you...
"Kadaj?" Yazoo was leaning over him, his breath a ghost of memories against his face, comforting. "Brother, you were dreaming again."
Unnatural eyes cracked open, vibrant artistic irises staring at the brother above him, the one born in a mixture of perfection and sin, molded like he was. Sensual lips cracked into a gentle smile, and if he squinted his eyes, near closed them, he could pretend, pretend that when he kissed his kin, pressed his lips to the gentle slope of Yazoo's throat, that it was Sephiroth that he was tasting instead. Sephiroth's power, his prestige, his lust, his godhood...
His fingers reached up, tangling in hair that wasn't long enough, tugging down a body that was too thin, too slight, breathing in a taste that didn't hold quite enough malice, not to the extent of which it would consume a world. Yazoo was moaning, was used to the treatment, to the worship, to the way it was their brother's, their protégé's, name whispered and moaned into his mouth; this was, Yazoo had long ago decided, the highest form of flattery.
And when Kadaj pulled him down, yanked him forward so that they tumbled onto the bed, Yazoo listened to the ramblings of desire and did as he was bid, sliding his fingers into Kadaj's mouth so that his gloved fingers could be licked, teased. He knew where this would end, how his brother would cry out Sephiroth's name, would scream for it, his arms open as if to call down the god and have him take the body as an avatar now, now as he came, as he finished, as he arched his body and climbed.
Jealousy, envy, it had no place with them, not now, not when they were close to the end. Kadaj was the beginning, was the start, and he was devoted to the only, to the Only, regardless of the flesh he took in the moments that lingered between.
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