This is basically going to be one large one shot type fic. Hope you like it. Just a small warning, it is m/m. Enjoy.

Decisions of the Heart

The whole city was asleep. A velvet blanket covering everything, the only light, the ghostly glow emanating from the street lamps below. The only movement visible is that of long black silky waves dancing upon the breeze. The figure - still, as if carved out of a block of ice, standing upon a balcony looking over the city. The only detection of life, the piercing crimson eyes, staring as if lost, into the depths of the darkness. Looking, but not really seeing, trapped within his own traitorous thoughts.

The night is cool, but he does not seem to notice the wind surrounding him, covering his half adorned, lithe body in goose bumps. He does not know how long he has been standing on his balcony like this. It does not really matter. Nothing matters when engulfed by the dark shadow, the never-ending depths of guilt.

When he first exited his apartment, he was still aware of the faint sounds of his lovers light breathing. The breath that set fire to his skin, made him feel alive. Alive… what a concept. To feel alive. When did he even die? Ohh yes, he died long ago, with the heart stopping betrayal, the crushing sin. His body still lives, barely, but that seems to be all. He is not the man that he was, he is not even sure if he is a man at all. Beasts living within him, demons of all shapes and sizes tossing around within his head. His body does not even look completely human any more, at least not with the added weight hanging from his left arm in the form of a golden claw. A constant reminder of his sin, and of the betrayal that cost him his humanity. Now, he was just a monster trapped within the form of a man. All one needed to do was look into his eyes, the tell tale eyes, non-human, predatory. So much to seek forgiveness for. So much he would do over. So much fate had taken away from him, taken and never fully given back. With the last thought, he glanced over his shoulder, taking a quick look at the form of his sleeping lover. A faint smile played across his luscious full lips, the ones he normally keeps hidden under his crimson cloak. Fully content with the knowledge that his lover was still sleeping, and was not ripped from his grasp by fate while he was not looking, he turned his attention back to his thoughts, and to the black sky that went of forever.

There was a stir in the room. A body moving, stretching, devoid of the warmth that was once there. Piercing blue eyes looked toward the balcony. Yes, he was always there, standing, just looking out into nothingness. A small chuckle momentarily filled the silence of the room as the figure got out of the bed and grabbed the crimson blanket. Vincent must be freezing out there, though he probably didn't realize it himself. Sigh. So much like Vincent. The man could never sleep the full night through, could never let himself leave the past where it was, and just enjoy the present. How could he be reached? Would he ever be reached?

The figure slowly walked toward the door that separated them. A door always separated them, but this one could be opened and walked through, the other, that was up to Vincent to make the decision. Whatever the decision, someone would be waiting for him, standing in the middle of the proverbial gap. Vincent was already met half way; all he had to do was realize it.

So many sins…. So many things that he did wrong, and that he could not take back. He fought with himself consistently, but in the darkness, his demons were allowed to take form, and he could almost see himself sparring with them, beating them back, getting back to her. She permeates his existence, her smell, her touch, her eyes, her hair. Everything about her. How could he not hang on? How could he not be able to save her from her fate? How could he let her die? These thoughts went on, and engrossed him. It was all he could think about, all that he could pay attention to.

Arms and cloth surrounded his body. Surprise shattered his very concentration and put him into immediate offence. He whirled around, almost completely throwing the crimson blanket, which was just wrapped around him startling him out of his reverie. Eyes aglow, senses afire, he came face to face with… with those eyes. His heart raced faster, his breathing stopped, his memory started to betray him, those eyes. Vibrant blue, mixed with a piercing green. The face so soft, lips full and utter ably kissable. Arms threw themselves around him, held him, and ran up and down his back, soothing him back off of the edge that he was so precariously perched on. But something was wrong, Vincent's mind kept wheeling.

The arms, they were too strong and muscular, the ones he remembered, were weak, helpless. The face, too high, as if she had grown at least four inches, the hair. Such beautiful hair, silky, silver, like mercury mingling beautifully with the black depths of his own. Such enchanting silver hair. Silver? No that was not right, her hair was brown. Not silver.

Sephiroth saw the confusion within Vincent's eyes. It stabbed him deeply. It stabbed him deeply every time he saw it. He always knew what Vincent was thinking, well more specifically, Who Vincent was thinking of. Her, always her. Within his own insecurity, an insecurity in which he would never admit, he pulled the slightly smaller man towards him, wrapping him securely within the crimson blanket that was almost discarded. He will always love the color crimson, the color of the eyes, still clouded with memory, but slowly clearing.

The helpless look within Vincent's eyes, made Sephiroth want to hit something. He wanted to eliminate the thing causing such pain. He wanted to take that pain away, in whichever way he could, but he couldn't. She was already gone. What she had done, he could never undo, no matter how close they were, no matter how much he tried. The sins of the mother could never be eliminated by the son. Such helplessness killed Sephiroth. He was a god on this earth, and yet he couldn't take the pain away, he couldn't clear the tormented eyes of his lover. He couldn't make the other feel safe and whole. It was all her fault, and yet without her sin, he would not be. So was it also his entire fault? Could the sin of the mother be passed down to the son? Was his very existence a constant reminder to Vincent of her betrayal? Was his presence what made Vincent stand on the balcony in the dark, drowning in his own tremulous thoughts? His had reached up to Vincent's face, caressing his cheek, and watched as the last bit of clouds cleared form the crimson depths.

Lucre… no… Sephiroth. It was Sephiroth who was standing in front of him. Sephiroth who's breath was the only thing that kept him warm. His being, the only thing that kept him a float in this world.

Lucrecia was gone.

She did not want him, she betrayed him. He took a deep breath, his mind clearing. He took another one as Sephiroth leaned in, hand still upon Vincent's cheek. Vincent reveled in his scent, wanted to be surrounded by the scent, a scent that pushed against his memory. Vincent shot backward. This scent! Her scent! Vincent stumbled backward, bumping into the balcony railing, head clutched in his claw. He silently damned himself.

Sephiroth was taken by surprise when Vincent retreated from his grasp. The only thing left was the quickly cooling blanket within his hand. He let it fall to the ground where the wind grabbed onto it and set it flying between the two.

A few hours ago they had been together. A few hours ago, he thought that he was starting to understand Vincent, starting to get through to the one that created the sweetest dreams, the one that was the conductor to all his desires. A few hours ago, he was happy; he saw a bright future, a future he did not believe in until he had met the man in crimson. The man standing parallel to him. The man that he had once fought against was the only person that he wanted. The only person that he could ever hold, ever love. He was also the only person to ever push away.

A few hours ago, they had been standing in the exact location as they were now; the only difference was that they were caught in a heated embrace, fuelled by a mutual passion. Now… now he barely recognized the person across from him. He barely knew him. He wanted to reach out, but knew that would be the death of them both, it was Vincent's decision. It will always be Vincent's decision. Sephiroth would follow Vincent to the ends of the world, would do anything he asked. One word from those beautiful lips, and Sephiroth would recreate the world; destroy it only to make it a new in the exact way that his lover wanted. Vincent once asked Sephiroth to stop his foolishness, that humankind was worth saving, and he listened. He went against his "mothers" wishes just to let Vincent show him what was so good about humankind. The wonders that the silent man showed were beyond anything Sephiroth could imagine. They were well worth forsaking his divinity to stay with the dark angel standing across from him. Ohh, how he would do anything, if spoken from those lips.

Vincent silently damned himself again when he looked up into Sephiroth's eyes. The sadness that he saw there. A claw clutched his heart again, he could barely breath. He has done it again. Such betrayal. He should not be allowed to corrupt this world with his presence. The crimson blanket that had once embraced them both was caught in the wind, flew between them. Some strange parody of bull fighting. The same passion within, but with a different ends. Well, hopefully different. Vincent was pretty sure that one of them would not actually be killing the other, but they might want to die by the end, die from the pain caused by a broken heart.

Who would have thought that the silver god that wanted to destroy humanity to save the planet, would have a heart. Vincent had somehow come across it, and even more strangely, had been given the pleasure of keeping it safe, unbroken, unharmed, and warm.

Another Betrayal.

A betrayal that works so many ways. Betraying the memory of the mother with the son, the son, with the memory of the love he had for the mother. Didn't they deserve happiness? How could Vincent believe he deserved happiness? How could he betray the dignity of his love? Wait… which love? Both? Does he love Sephiroth? Yes…. He does.. At least he thinks he does. He knows that he needs Sephiroth more then he would ever admit. He needed the strength of those arms around him; he needed the scent, her scent, his scent. Vincent knew that the world would be empty without him. He knew that they depended on each other, that they were equals. Was that love? Vincent thought so, it was a different love then he had experienced before, but it was the best that he could do. Did he love Lucrecia? More then he believed possible. His love for her was out of her need for him. A need that was cut short by Hojo… But it was love, a love that would last the rest of his days. Could he forsake his love for Lucrecia? Would he? Would he risk it all for the man across from him?

"Sephiroth." The one word spoken, barley auditable, but it still had all the power it would if it was screamed.

Sephiroth watched Vincent's lips move, forming the syllables that consisted of his name. The sheer sound of his voice within the stillness of the night was enough to caress something deep within the former general. Something deep, and hidden. Vincent's voice ran like velvet across that sacred spot. A spot Sephiroth did not believe he had, until he met the lonely gunman. A small giddy feeling entered him with the knowledge that the vision before him had remembered him, their relationship, and had no longer seen his mother in his stead. The feeling left almost as quickly as it had come. He did not know what was going to happen, this sense of the unknown always made him feel a little uneasy. Like there was a roller coaster in his stomach, and it was out of control. It was always out of control when he was around Vincent. That is one reason he loved him. Yes, He loved him. He needed him. He needed to be loved by him. He damned himself for being so reliant on him, but couldn't help it.

"Sephiroth." Practically whispered again. But this time it set Sephiroth in motion. He slowly walked towards the man still leaning on the railing. His bone, sliding against muscle, muscle against skin, graceful, almost feline like. He glided over to Vincent and stood there, a deep breath would have had them touching. They stood there for minuets, hours, days, weeks, all and yet none. Time had stopped the very second that they were so close. The appeal, not being lost on either one of them. Sephiroth kept silent, waiting for his silent companion to break his vow… I am meeting you more then half way this time, come down Vincent, come to me. I am waiting.

If only that man knew how alluring he was. His walk, the way his body moved, and the way his hair glided behind him, all a promise of what could come. What was to come. Vincent did not know what had made him speak his name, but he was insistently glad that he did, when Sephiroth started his small journey. Vincent loved the statuesque figure of the other, especially when the other was so wonderfully undressed. The only thing adorning his godlike body was a pair of Vincent's own boxer shorts. A beautiful pair of crimson silk. How it played so well off of his slightly tanned skin. How they fit so well over his well toned hips. All line of thought dissipated when Sephiroth settled so close. The silence being filled with the sounds of each heartbeat, slowly going into the rhythm of the other.

A slow shiver glided across Vincent's body, bringing him back from his fantasy land where Sephiroth had no reason to be sad or mad with him, he also had no reason to be clothed. He slowly started to nibble on his lower lip, trying desperately to figure out how to word what it was that he wanted to say. Trying to figure out how to take the pain out of his heart, heal it, and then give himself over to the angelic vision before him. Give himself completely.

Sephiroth always lost his breath when he came into contact with Vincent's eyes. So unlike anything what he has ever seen before, so untamed, so wild, so promising. Vincent always hid behind his quiet knowledgeable demeanor. But Sephiroth knew there was some untapped passion lurking behind the quiet exterior. The beautifully quiet exterior. The pale skin, untouched by the sun for many, many years. The lithe layer of muscles, hiding the true power of what lies underneath. He has seen that power up close, so close. It made his heart quicken a bit with just the thought.

Vincent was chewing upon his bottom lip. How tempting it is to replace his own teeth upon that lip. His own tongue caressing the damage that his teeth would surely do. Silently scolding himself for his lack of control over his lascivious thoughts he tried taking his mind off of those amazingly kissable lips, the lips that would look even better nibbling on something much, much lower. Scolding himself again he turned his attention to Vincent's velvet waves, the waves that would be lost to night's sky if given the chance. How beautifully the two men play off of each other, white silver interlaced with ebon black, spreading out, blanketing them both. How beautifully they mix together, mix to create the most beautiful vision. Their skins rubbing against each other, his tanned, muscular body, a general's body, intertwined with the pale, lithe body of his opposite. Just the thoughts created a heat upon Sephiroth's body. He knew his eyes were dilating with desire, and he fought himself to stay under control, to stay silent, and to stay in one place. It was Vincent's decision. It had always been Vincent's decision. And he would accept whatever decision he made… But it better be the same one that Sephiroth's body was craving.

'Damn' Vincent thought to himself. Sephiroth is waiting for me to make the decision. To decide between them, to decide between all of them. He heard more then anything the shuddering breath that escaped his lovers' lips, and he looked up. He was caught off guard by the most beautiful vision he had ever seen. Sephiroth's lips, parted just a little, his tongue licking the bottom one, his eyes dilated, lids heavy. There was a light sheen to his skin that Vincent hadn't noticed. Lucrecia never looked like this, never this strikingly erotic, never radiating such power. The power that set his loins on fire. No, this was strictly a Sephiroth gift. A much loved gift of the silver god. His own body started to react, all thought leaving his person.

Vincent reached his hand up to caress his lover's face, but his hand had other plans. Instead of lightly touching the tanned cheek of his own private angel, Vincent's hand reached behind Sephiroth's neck, and with a quick tug, lips devoured lips, mouths sighing, moaning into mouths. Yes this was good, this was home. There is no other place that either wanted to be, then on the balcony devouring each other.

Sephiroth did a little victory dance within his head when he felt his lips marriage themselves with Vincent's. Well, to be utterly truthful, the victory dance was more of a striptease, and it was Vincent doing it, but nonetheless Sephiroth was very, very pleased with Vincent's decision.

Had he even known he made one? Did it matter? No, not right now. All that mattered was that Vincent was as hungry as himself.

He pulled the smaller man towards himself, taking away all space that had previously been there. Vincent let out a small moan, greedily eaten by Sephiroth's waiting mouth, when their need came in contact with each other. Grinding unconsciously together, the fire was uncontrollable; they felt as if they were in a blaze big enough to engulf the whole city. The city… yes they were still outside. This will not do. Sephiroth will not allow the city's eyes to see his angel, not to see the truth of the gift he had huddled in his embrace. He would let no other see his beauty in ecstasy that was his and his alone. In one swift motion, Sephiroth winded his arms around Vincent's back and buttocks and lifted him up. Vincent's legs out of a second nature curled around the generals' waist and Sephiroth lead the way back into the house, into the bedroom, and upon the bed that was waiting.

Vincent almost squealed when in an act of complete protectiveness, Sephiroth lifted him off, away from the prying eyes of the stars. He knew that the roles would change once they were inside. The roles always changed, but nothing excited Vincent more then when Sephiroth was trying for dominance. Vincent loved it when there was a small fight for dominance and then Sephiroth would give up out of his pure need to be taken, or out of the fact that he would never win once Vincent's predatory nature took over. Sephiroth was a god among men, except when they both were inside Vincent's bed room. Within Vincent's domain, only Vincent ruled, and they both knew Sephiroth would have it no other way. But for now, Vincent would enjoy the generals' quick show of dominance, and would act the part.

Once they crossed the threshold, however, Vincent released the generals' mouth from his assault and bit down upon his neck. Sephiroth faltered in his step, he almost threw Vincent down upon the ground only to follow suit and be ravaged in the middle of the floor, but continued on to the already rustled silk sheets. Vincent was now nibbling, licking and kissing down Sephiroth's neck, to his collar bone, where he placed another bite, this time drawing little drops of blood, but at that moment he was torn from his claim and landed on the bed. His eyes were a dark blood red now and a lazy smirk formed on his features. Sephiroth knew that his dark side was taking over, aroused by the hour, and by the lust. Knowing he was in for a great ride, he followed suit, trying to remain on top, but Vincent was used to Sephiroth's games by now, and was quickly overturned. Arms being held by surprisingly strong hands, above his head, as Vincent started placing quick kisses down his torso. Straddling the generals' hips, Vincent quickly untied one of the sashes that held the drapes of his canopy bed, only to retie it around his wrists. It was so much easier to hold his arms down with one hand this way. When that was done Vincent continued his assault upon his lovers' body.

It had always been easier to take the generals body. To get all that he wanted, all that he needed, and still keep the general in the throngs of ecstasy as Vincent's darker side would take over. It always took over at the height of darkness, which is why Vincent rarely allowed himself such an intimate gesture so late at night. He knew his lovemaking was different depending on the time. He tried to make sure that it was never this late, when the sun was still at least a remembrance in the sky, he was gentle. Once it surrendered to the darkness, he was untamed. Such thoughts of darkness only spurred his other side on as he used the sharpened index finger of his claw to scrape along the muscular chest beneath him. He was transfixed by the reddening line that was left by his claw, and then leaned down licking the same path. He heard the deep moan emanate from Sephiroth's throat. A wicked smirk adorned his face as he looked into Sephiroth's eyes.

Those eyes, so untamed, so unleashes, so animalistic. Even the way his body moved was different. More gracefully dangerous. More exciting, in a strictly 'playing with fire' way. Don't take him wrong, Sephiroth loved it when Vincent was gentle, caressing, absolutely aware of everything, caring and making sure he did not harm the general in any way. Those were the nights where Sephiroth believed that he had found heaven. The pleasure so unbearable and encompassing that heaven could be the only place where he could be. But there was something about these nights, which stirred something deep. These nights held a whisper of fear in his head, but through the pain he knew he was going to have to endure, came an ecstasy that was indescribable.

The wonderful blue depths of his eyes, he was forever falling into those eyes. Hearing Sephiroth moan when he subconsciously rubbed their bodies together. He felt his beast rising to the heat, the passion, the promise. Looking down into Sephiroth's half hooded eyes, Vincent knew that he had made his decision. Knew that he had finally chosen. He had chosen to forgive, and in return be forgiven. The mothers' betrayal had created this vision under him. The vision that was the only person in the world who would accept him, his beast, and what he had become, with open, loving arms. His betrayal had also created his finest present. Vincent had toiled though life, and now, he knew why he had kept living. He lived for Sephiroth, and knew that his feelings had nothing in any way to do with the mother. He loved Sephiroth. Lucrecia was dead. Lucrecia would never have been able to handle what Vincent had become. It would have ended anyway. But Sephiroth… he knows what lies within Vincent. He had seen it on many different occasions, whether it be in this very room or while they were battling against each other for the fate of the world.

He had chosen. "Sephiroth" he moaned as he kissed the general beneath him, tasting his essence, his being. "You are the one" was the only other words that he would say tonight. They even came out as a guttural growl as need ripped through him.

Sephiroth was overwhelmed when he heard those words. Vincent had chosen, had chosen him, and better still, realized and did not regret his choice. Lucrecia would finally be dead to him, and Sephiroth knew that his mother would never enter his lover's mind again to bring such torment. No, whenever his lover would think upon her, it would be with gratitude for bringing him into this world. A cocky smile started to play upon Sephiroth's face, only to turn into a loud moan and an arched back when he felt those perfect lips kissing down his stomach, felt the mixture of warm hand and cold metal as his shorts were removed.

With a feeling of total contentment they both let their minds empty as they welcomed the unadulterated pleasure overtake them and send them over to the start of a life dedicated only to one another, with no shadows of regret or death darken their hearts.