Vincent was unable to defend himself as he was shoved onto the lab top counters. His silver-haired assaulter was smiling, gingerly pulling off his gloves finger by finger.

Vincent didn't utter a sound. He would not verbalize any weaknesses, especially in this place, of all places, where he had experienced so much previous pain.

He looked up with menace again at who was to take him, the hatred clear but the lust even clearer. So this was the one that was supposed to crush the planet, using ungodly amounts of power that no sentient being should ever be allowed to possess?

'Well,' Vincent thought to himself with cynicism, 'I wonder if he will look this triumphant when he accomplishes that task?'

The strong, now un-clothed hands pressed down upon his inner thighs, and he felt shards of broken glass digging into his backside. No matter. If he allowed Sephiroth to do what Sephiroth planned, the experience wouldn't be any less painful.

He was unclothed in the most unfavorable way, fingernails creating bloody streaks down his legs as the trousers eventually worked themselves off. As a pair of lips was brought down to touch his half-arousal, he could have sworn he heard screams of terror just outside the laboratory window. Who knew what kind of drama was happening outside, what with all the ruckus Sephiroth had been creating?

Vincent could not focus any longer, though, because the lips had traveled down him farther, and the tip of him was shrouded in the hot confines of his dominant's wet mouth. A tongue stroked him - not the slippery, slithering little muscle that most humans adorned. Instead, this one was much like a cat's, rough and talented, every raised taste bud catching a little more of his skin and making him grit his teeth from it.

He was taken in farther, and his hands dug into the porcelain counter, his clawed metal appendage creating fine, dented scratches in the material. So much teeth was brought upon his flesh. So much teeth, knawing him and caressing him in a way that was anything but gentle.

Vincent would hate to say that he enjoyed the pain, but, after thirty long years of chastity, his desperation led him to new levels of self-sacrifice that he would never commit under normal circumstances. The Chaos inside of him was burning, crying out to be released, the real enjoyer of all this sadistic masochism.

When he came into his captor's mouth, a burning sensation that left him none-the-less satisfied, he was released to lie limp as Sephiroth pinned him completely to the counter, running that tongue up and down all over Vincent's body.

Their foreheads touched, and their eyes locked. No kissing would be done, for that would take some form of tender attachment, and Vincent knew that they would rather kill each other before attachment and vulnerability ever took place. The feeling was definitely mutual.

Long, firm fingers started dancing along the flesh of his glutes, pinching lightly at the bits of sharp glass buried in his skin. Vincent sucked in a quivering breath, coming to the conclusion that he would not be made any more of a fool without some sort of fight. He would not be taken that easily.

Just as a middle finger trailed almost inside of him, he lashed out with his clawed hand, only to be caught in mid-air, Sephiroth's laugh shaking his bones to the core. He was held tight against Sephiroth's body, thrashing as he felt Sephiroth's rather large endowments digging into his own.

A hand came up to pull his head band down, past his face and around his neck. Then it twirled the cloth in an iron grip, stinging his throat and closing his lungs. A tongue licked at his lips, making him so open for suggestion that he couldn't stand the situation any longer.

And to think that this gruesome creature, this devil with an angel's face, was a mixture of the two mad scientists who had captivated his emotions the most when he was in his prime.

He could see Hojo, the selfish immoral bastard who caused all the injury in the first place. He supposed that was why he hated Sephiroth so much, why he wanted to rip the man apart as desperately as he wanted himself to be ripped apart.

But he could also see Lucrecia, the beautiful soul who had been the only one to give his past any meaning. He supposed that was why he continued to let Sephiroth put him in this wanton display, even though he knew with every bit of his conscience that it needed to stop.

His energy waning, Vincent protested one last time before being flipped and pinned once again to the counter, this time on his stomach, his neck finally released.

All Vincent felt next was a sharp, prolonged, tearing pain that meant that Sephiroth's obstruction now held shelter in his body. He clawed his fingers into Sephiroth's hips as he was lifted off of the ground, due to nothing but the sheer strength of Sephiroth's lower body. Lubrication? Ha! At this point, both of them were so far gone that lubrication was just an unfathomable idea.

Vincent's nostrils flared as he was thrust inside of, over and over, the intensity only increasing and the pain only getting worse. The once sterile smell of Hojo's lab and office was now completely ruined by the stench of the couple's rough sex.

Needless to say, no matter how much it hurt, Vincent was enjoying himself, even if only a tiny bit. It felt good to be wanted, even if it was in such a horrid way. And Sephiroth was so attractive, and so powerful, that he couldn't help but want his superior as well.

Vincent was touched, to his surprise, stroked in the rough rhythm that Sephiroth was creating. They were both going to peak together, the only intimate moment in this entire experience.

The pressure built, quickly and fully, until they were both orgasming uncontrollably, Vincent spilt in Sephiroth's hand and Sephiroth spilt in Vincent's body.

Then Vincent was dropped, collapsing onto the ground, Sephiroth's body gone from his own. He looked up to see himself alone already, shaking and bleeding, pain being the only indication that pleasure had ever existed.