Title: A Story With A Moral

Author: Digimon Empress Yaten (de yaten)

Notes: This began as a drabble with a nameless, genderless person and evolved into this somehow. I'm weird. I know. And it's a story with a moral, really. Reviews are welcome, especially if you favorite!

Warnings: Dark. Some adult sexual situations. Implications of violence and necrophilia. You've been warned.

Disclaimer: I don't own Final Fantasy 7 or its characters. I don't claim to own them.

Regan blinked steadily, trying to clear her vision. She was vaguely aware that she was lying on her back, with a dull pain radiating from a pin-sized sting on her neck, but she couldn't recall exactly what had just happened.

The last thing she could remember was picking up a couple of Johns with her partner, Fay. They usually avoided anyone that gave them as little as a weird vibe, but a payment of Gil so extravagant that it could probably buy them out of this life helped them to ignore the uneasy feeling radiating from the strangers with entirely leather outfits, impossibly silver hair, and three pairs of matching lizard-green eyes…

Eyes that were currently burning into her own.

She started, but found herself unable to do much more than lurch forward a bit. Dimly, she realized her shoulders were being pinned down by an iron grip. The most feminine of the brothers - in fact, she had at first glance thought him a girl- was mere inches from her face, with a smile that seemed friendly but did little to comfort her.

"Don't worry, we just wanted to go somewhere a little more… familiar." He paused as her eyes began to nervously dart around, looking for any sign of…

"Your friend has already gone off with my brother, Kadaj. She didn't want to waste any time, it seems."

He loosened his grip and stood at full height next to the bed, ignoring her small grunt and a hand shooting up to rub at her neck. "You be a good girl for my brother Loz, all right? I'll be watching, so play nice." She nodded warily - she wasn't used to having someone watch, or at least without the intention of joining - and sat up when the third brother entered the room.

He was tall, definitely the eldest of the three, and she figured him for the strongest. He was already shirtless, and the well-defined muscles shaping his body eased some of the fear from her pounding heart.

"You hungry?"

She shook her head and resisted the urge to raise an eyebrow. Usually the real muscular Johns would be stripped and on her by now. They liked it quick, rough, and discouraged any sort of chit-chat. But this John - Loz, she reminded herself, unsure if this knowledge mattered - was still half-dressed and standing awkwardly on the other side of the room.

"Don't you want to… play?" She asked, repeating the other brother's words subconsciously.

At this, Loz seemed to light up. He gave her a sheepish grin and strode towards the bed, though she was surprised that his hands didn't reach down to immediately unbuckle his belt. Instead, he seemed to be staring at the man in the corner - she had heard the name Yazoo back in the bar? - and waiting for something from him. He must have found the sign he was waiting for, because a few moments later he began to plant soft kisses along her neck.

Well, this was different. Foreplay was unheard of in her line of work, even if it was a bit unsettling to have the other one watching them. After a minute or so of the treatment, her manicured hands reached for his belt—only to be gently slapped away.

"No," he murmured, lips still pressed against her neck.

"Wha--" she began, before being interrupted by his lips brushing her own.

"I wanna play some more," he whispered, before gently biting at her lower lip. She opened up obediently and mentally shrugged. Who was she to argue with what the customer wanted? And if the customer wanted some foreplay, wanted to press light kisses along her jawline, or –she shivered—rub gentle circles across her stomach, then that was just fine with her.

Of course, after thirty minutes of foreplay and kisses and tender touches, she was about ready to rip his pants off and force herself on him. She had heard of warming up, but this was ridiculous.

Suddenly, the door to the room slammed open and startled them both out of their stupor. They sat up with arms still loosely wrapped around each other, although her grip weakened considerably when she took in the sight before them.

The youngest of the three was standing in the doorway holding a dark brown bag in one hand and a strange looking sword in the other. It took her mind a few seconds to realize that the bag was actually much lighter than she originally though, and it was only dark around the bottom. It took her mind a few more seconds to realize that the bottom was probably stained with the same thick blood currently dripping from the sword that hung from his hip.

"Jeez, Loz," he said, his tone entirely too casual for Regan. "You haven't even put it in yet? Mine's been sacked and hacked already."

He tossed the bloody bundle towards the one in the corner and she choked back a sob when the stained cloth fell away to reveal Fay's severed head, lips still open in a scream and blood steadily dripping from her gored neck.

The man simply grinned and began unbuckling his belt.

"Thank you, Kadaj. You're so kind for sharing."

He spared the girl a glance before sliding his pants to the floor.

"You should be grateful that Loz caught your eye, girl. Your friend, it seems, didn't fare quite as well.."

Regan screwed her eyes shut and tried to ignore the rhythmic squelching noises as Loz resumed nuzzling her neck.