I am on a roll here!I hope this inspiration and drive sticks around.

It's funny how I can go from just finishing a cute fluffy fic about a bunny to writing... this. But I've been itching to go back to what I feel I'm best at: darkness and sex. I rather love dark themes... and sex... between two men... angry/violent sex too *evil grin*

I'd wanted to write at least one fic where Seph and Zack forgo some sense of control and just...fuck like animals. I never really got around to getting a good idea for it... until now, and I once again have to thank Breaking Benjamin songs for giving me a nice surge of inspiration. So... here it is... Enjoy the smut.

Pairing: Zack/Sephiroth

Warnings: language, SLASH, fairly violent sex

His body is hot.

Raw power makes his heart race, blood rushing through his body. His senses seem to heighten and dull at the same time, the world appearing so clear one moment and hazed the next. His heart is pounding against his ribcage and his lungs burn as they struggle to take in air. He feels so energized, so powerful, yet so tired and weakened.

There's a voice in his ears that isn't his own, nor does it belong to anyone he knows. It whispers nothings and echoes inside his skull. It confuses him, and that tiny part of his mind that remains rational is concerned.

This isn't right. His body is not behaving as it should.

He stumbles to a door—whether it's the right one or not, his mind does not know...nor does it really care—and he doesn't realize how hard he's actually banging on it. He must have been leaning on it because he stumbles when it opens, but he keenly feels arms wrap around him, keeping him from hitting the ground. He is pressed against a stronger body, one normally much warmer than his own, but the energy that overloads his body makes him much too hot.

There's another voice, but it sounds so far away. He can hear no words, only the whispers in his head and this new voice, both fighting for his attention. He tries to focus on the voice outside—something tells him to do so. He tries to calm his body, slow his pounding heart, and make him damned eyes and ears work. The effort is a success for just a moment...until fingers lightly comb through his hair.

Normally such a gesture would immediately calm him, make every muscle relax and turn to putty. But this time, his body shudders violently, and the power inside surges again.

Mako. He can remember now, or more his body can remember. His skin feels the prick of needles, the burn of it as it flows with his blood.

That burn comes back all the stronger. It's in his blood, his skin, in his lungs. It makes him dizzy.

He feels fingers against his jaw, and his head is tilted upward. Suddenly, he's faced with a pale but blurry face, but the eyes glow so clearly.

That whisper darkens to a snarl so quickly that he actually flinches. The arms around him tighten their hold, and he's brought closer. He's staring at that face, seeing soft lips move but hearing no words. Why can't he fucking hear anything?

For reasons his brain cannot comprehend, the Mako flares again. It seems his body could care less about his lack of hearing. His nerves come to life, making his muscles tremble. The heat only intensifies and centers in one single spot, and something new seems to come to life. His body presses closer on its own, his hips thrusting and grinding against the body that holds him.

He can see those eyes widen just slightly.

"Zack?"

For some reason, he hears that voice plain as day, so clear that it's jarring. It makes something snap in him, and that snarl in his mind becomes louder, clearer...as if it had come from his own lips.

He hasn't the slightest idea when or how he managed it, but he suddenly has that bigger body shoved against a wall, his fingers digging into cloth. The sound as it tears away makes muscles shudder and a tingling rise in his pelvis. He pulls the head that's slightly above him down and the other's lips are crushed against his own. It's messy, almost savage, but the part of his brain that is aware of this is too small and overpowered to make him stop.

For a moment, the other does nothing, and for some reason this agitates him. He rakes blunt nails over newly bared skin, and the sound the other makes creates shocks down his spine.

He thrusts against the other, digging fingers into narrow hips hard enough to bruise as he fights to claw off the pants that hang there. His mouth moves to a pale neck, and his teeth bite down, his tongue tasting the smooth skin. His nose can smell the scent of soap mixed with the musk of arousal. There's an urge to mark skin as his own, to claim this body that's so much stronger as his own.

Gods, if the other were not so tall, he'd heft one of those long legs up and fuck him right there against the wall. Though he knows he couldn't, his body seemed hell bent on trying, his hips thrusting, his body grinding against the other.

Somehow in the midst of it all, both their bodies became bare, and the feel of flesh against flesh is so Gods-damned good. He feels nails dig into his back, making him arch sharply and release a sound no human should be able to make. The body against his trembles, and he can practically hear two hearts pounding in his ears as they both writhe against each other.

Then the voice comes again, just as incoherent as it had been before, before he feels himself being pulled along. Though his legs had done well with keeping him upright, once forced to move they buckle under him. An arm around his waist keeps him upright, and before he knows it he is surrounded by darkness, his vision taking longer than normal to adjust.

His body seems well aware of where it is before his mind can catch up. He's finally been able to register that they are in the bedroom long after the other has been shoved to the bed, his own body settling over him.

Nails claw and lips struggle to stay latched to skin. Their bodies writhe against each other, thrashing, grinding, and thrusting. His blood burns in his veins and rushes to his groin. His heart tries to beat its way out of his chest, his pulse so strong that he can feel it through every fiber of his being.

Long legs squeeze him around the middle, and that strong body arches and rocks against him. That voice moans and purrs in his ear, the words still nonexistent, but the sound once again jarringly clear. But he does not want words. He wants that voice to scream, to moan and beg. He'll make that voice scream his name, moan in submission, and beg for him to never stop.

One of those legs is hooked over an arm, and he finds himself hovering over the other. Silver hair fanned out around him, those bright eyes glowing with... lust? Gods, his brain can't focus enough to tell. He feels a painful throb between his legs at the clear sight of that face before heat pulses through him and makes everything he sees blend together.

His hips thrust forward and the heat that envelopes him makes light burst behind his eyes. A deep moan sends jolts along his spine, and he digs nails into soft skin in the effort to force the sound out again.

More, something in his mind demanded. Yes. More. He needs more.

His body sets a brutal pace, uncaring of any discomfort he may cause. It doesn't occur to him that he never even bothered to prepare the other, much less take the time to use lube. But he won't be bothered with it.

Even as he moves, he stares down at that pale face. Gods, the other is beautiful, eyes staring back at him, lips parted in a silent cry. Strange that he can suddenly see that face so clearly again, but even as that enters his head, his vision blurs once more. If he could form a coherent thought, he might have found it oddly funny that his lover—yes, that's what the other is—seems so aroused by this rough display. And he is certainly enjoying himself if the hardness pressing against his abdomen was any indication. Though it could explain just how he was able to shove the bigger body against the wall, onto the bed, and finally all but dominate it.

Another deep moan sends shocks through his pelvis, and he snaps his hips forward, driving deep into that tight, welcoming heat. In that same instant, his vision clears just long enough to see eyes widen before clamping shut.

The sound that leaves the other is unlike anything he can remember hearing, like the feral shriek of a large cat and the deep howl of a behemoth. Every nerve in his body suddenly burns hotter, and he is only slightly aware of a sound leaving his own lips before he dives down and clamps onto his lover's neck. He can taste the mako in the blood that coats his tongue and the power surges again.

He moves with abandon, the rhythm fast and painfully hard. He stays latched to pale skin, even as his arm unhooks from its original position, fists moving to grip at the covers beneath both their bodies. That little part of his brain tries to remind him to be careful; tearing those sheets may not bode well for him later... but he doesn't care.

Those legs squeeze and pull him closer, as if trying to bring him deeper. Long fingers tangle into his hair, pulling roughly. He snarls and sinks his teeth deeper into broken skin, bringing more blood to the surface. It's hot, just like his skin. His hips angle, and he hits that spot again bringing forth another string of cries and moans, but the sound of his name on those lips is like music, and those nails claw into his back and scalp.

More. More. More!

He hits that spot again, and again, drawing forth loud rhythmic cries. Each sound sends strong shocks through his groin, making a ball settle in his gut and tighten more and more.

His body grows tense, and his movements lose all sense of rhythm. His senses bleed together, and the world seems to blur around him. He feels as if he is ablaze, the heat and the pleasure so deliciously painful.

So close, is all he can think. So damn close!

Suddenly, there's tightening of the body around him, muscles clenching almost painfully. He doesn't even notice how those nails tear into his skin, making him bleed. It happens so quickly that he cannot hold back as he topples over the edge. That knot unravels, just as he feels wet heat splash onto his stomach. His lungs tighten in his chest, and every muscle locks tight.

Every fiber of his body tingles, overwhelming his senses. Colors burst across his vision, a low ringing settling in his ears, and his skin feels as if it has a life of its own, crawling and shifting and buzzing.

Gods, he's fucking dying, it feels like.

His back arches sharply, his teeth clenching for just a moment. Something inside tells him to not make a sound, but it is brutally squashed by another surge of sensation. Even over the ringing, he can hear the loud howl that leaves him, hear it mingling with the long, low sound from his lover. It seems like an eternity before he finally comes, the pressure built inside slowly easing. His hips twitch, and he gently rocks into the other as he rides the continuous waves of release.

A breathy noise escapes him as every ounce of energy is spent, his body going limp. By some miracle, his arms still have the strength to support his weight, preventing him from dropping onto his lover. The burning heat is replaced by an oddly soothing warmth, the buzzing of his nerves dying down to a slight and pleasant tingle.

The ringing in his ears subsides, and he can hear the sound of his and his lover's labored breathing. When the colors in his vision fade, he realizes that, at some point, his eyes had shut, and all he can see is black. He almost wants to open them... but the way his body sways makes him rethink doing so. No doubt his is dizzy. He just keeps still, waiting for his breathing to even out, waiting for his heart to slow, and letting the world slowly stop spinning on its own.

Soft fingers begin to slowly brush up and down his arm, bringing him out of whatever haze he is in. Just as he's about to open his eyes, a sharp pain explodes in his temple, forcing a groan from his lips. A second hand presses against his cheek—eliciting a shudder as fingers brush his scar—before moving to the nape of his neck, and a soft pressure is all it takes for his body to finally lower itself. He presses his head against his lover's collar bone and sighs at the feel of fingertips brushing along his back.

His brain remains a jumbled mess, no thoughts forming... not that he's trying to make them form, anyways. The last thing he hears is a soft sigh above him, and he knows no more.

-end-