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kinkfestTitle: The Weakest of Men
Author/Artist: anime_angel_ash
Rating: R
Spoilers: For Advent Children
Warnings: Rape as torture
Word Count: 1661
Summary: Rufus Shinra does not understand his proper place in the new world wrought for Jenova’s children. Clearly, this is something that Kadaj must teach him.
Prompt: June 20 - Final Fantasy 7, Kadaj/Rufus Shinra: sensory deprivation - What's wrong? Are you still afraid of the dark?
A/N: Yeesh! So many dub/non-cons for me this round! Thankfully, this is the last of them. Drains the spirit, these do.
The President is not cooperating.
Kadaj stands casually in the open doorway, the tiniest of smiles gracing his lips as he gazes upon the crippled man. It almost seems excessive to have him locked up in here; he is already trapped in a cage of his own making, of metal and filthy cloth. It isn’t as if he would be able to escape if lock and key were spared. Still, there is something delightful about imprisoning a kidnapper.
The smirk never leaving his face, Kadaj steps into the room, keeping his strides slow and menacing. The room’s only window—which would’ve looked out onto the center of Edge had it not been shaded and coated with filth—casts a sickly light over the room and provides just enough light to show that Rufus Shinra has not budged in the face of Kadaj’s advance. Not unusual, unfortunately. After hours in Kadaj’s custody, the President has yielded naught but lies, despite the pain, the threats, and the screams of his beaten men playing back to him from Loz’s cellphone.
But he is not invincible. He is no big brother Sephiroth, and Kadaj doubts he is even a match for brother Cloud. Rufus Shinra may not be cooperating, but he is just a man. A man who, like all the others, can be easily broken.
“Your men aren’t coming for you.”
Shinra does not move, not even the sickly fingers that lay over the edge of his armrest, small and white and weak. Even now they lay across the chair’s control, useless as it has been made by torn cables, and the sight sings of retribution. Kadaj’s smile grows as he approaches, wringing a strip of black fabric between his own black fingers.
“They’re dead.”
Shinra is nothing if not proud. He continues to stay still, does not even lift his chin as Kadaj draws closer, the old floorboards creaking like shrieks beneath his feet. But he is afraid, Kadaj realizes as he kneels before the man and reaches for his delicate hand. He can feel it shake, and as he lifts his head to look into the shadows where Shinra’s eyes should have been, Kadaj’s smile grows even wider. “You’re a liar,” he tells the helpless shadows. “And a thief.”
He stands slowly, curling the black cloth around his fingers and snapping it between his fists. He reaches under Shinra’s filthy wrap—he’ll have to wash his hands after this—covering the President’s eyes with the cloth and tying it unnecessarily tight. He can feel Shinra tense, useless muscles coiling as Kadaj brushes ominously against his shoulder, his neck, the side of his face. Kadaj can’t help but chuckle. Just like a man of Shinra’s supposed power to be afraid of the dark.
“You know I don't believe you lost Mother,” Kadaj says, and there isn’t question to be found there. He leans forward, looking into eyes that can’t see (never could, but now truly can’t). “You know where she is.”
Shinra’s breath catches a little, but he holds it well. Kadaj can’t help but giggle in glee at the sight; obviously, the man has known fear. It gets even better when he takes the man’s chin in the palm of his hand, gently, sinisterly stroking the hollow of Shinra’s neck, his pretty politician’s throat where the fear is gathering.
He could kill Rufus Shinra. At this very moment, Kadaj holds the leader of the Shinra company—the virtual ruler of the world—in his hand, helpless as a child. It is truly a testament to Mother’s power when even something as incomplete as Kadaj can master what was once the Planet’s most powerful man.
But to kill is not to master. To kill is simply that, and that is hardly the appropriate course of action to take with the President. He has stolen Mother. He does not understand his proper place in the new world wrought for Jenova’s children. Clearly, this is something that Kadaj must teach him.
The horror and disgust is evident in Shinra’s face as Kadaj bites down on the man’s bottom lip, tracing his tongue over the now-maimed skin with a chuckle in his throat. Shinra tries to jerk back, lifts his hands to push Kadaj away. Kadaj, in turn, slams them back down, the barely healed bones of Shinra’s wrists practically groaning with the stress. Shinra hisses, grimacing at an assailant he can’t see as Kadaj pulls back and runs his tongue over his own lips, licking away gratifying bits of blood. “Where is Mother?” he asks, thrusting his hand between the President’s legs and clutching, and the sound that the man makes is so beautifully agonized that it nearly gives Kadaj chills. “Where is she?”
Shinra leans forward—head too big, too heavy for his neck—breathing harshly through his teeth. For an instant, Kadaj thinks he might confess. However, the seconds tick by, Shinra says nothing, and Kadaj lets out an irritated yet patient laugh. Fine. He can have it his way.
The next kiss bends Shinra backward, blind eyes directed at the ceiling but the view blocked by the merciless Kadaj. The remnant’s hand is just as insistent, and even as Shinra tries as fiercely as possible to draw away, Kadaj hears the man stifle a groan, feels him getting hard despite his protests. “That’s right,” Kadaj croons, running his tongue over Shinra’s lips and giggling like a boy, if he ever was one. Holding Shinra’s broken body in place with the smallest bit of force, barely leaning on him, Kadaj runs his hand across the President’s diminutive chest, concave stomach. He undoes the clasps of the man’s slacks with a painful kind of care and effortlessly pressing past the waistband.
This is a body its owner meant for females. Kadaj can practically smell them on the President’s skin (whores all), and he wonders if that blonde one Loz and Yazoo had been playing with was one of them. Regardless, Kadaj new this type of man, who used females for pleasure that is best achieved without them. To be touched by a man . . . there is nothing worse, nothing more decimating. Kadaj smiles, and grips tighter.
The way Shinra squirms, hands curling around the arms of his useless wheelchair and meaningless curses spouting from his lips—every self-righteous man’s last line of defense, when all else is lost—is enough to make Kadaj himself hard (the cock in his hand is a pretty impressive incentive, too). It’s made all the sweeter by the man’s blindness, the way he struggles to see because humans know nothing beyond what their often ill-advised eyes tell them. Without that, all Rufus Shinra can do is feel. Kadaj laughs again at the thought, a cackle that echoes through the room, and strokes faster, more feverishly; he will break this man.
Shinra’s drawn back as far as he can, now, up against the back of his wheeled trap, a rabbit cornered by a wolf. He has a cry of desperation all his own, however: reluctant, shaking breaths to a rabbit’s awkward screams. As the wolf does, Kadaj follows, moving his hand from between Shinra’s legs just long enough to wrench the man’s knees apart and step between them, more like a guest than an intruder. Pressing his knees against Shinra’s thighs, effectively locking them in place, he traces his hand along one with a smirk.
“You’re not worthy of her,” Kadaj says as his hand reaches the President’s cock, laughs mockingly as the man groans in despair. He can already feel the telling jolts in the man’s weak hips, and laughs even harder. It only took this long. How pathetic. “Where is she?”
Shinra’s breaths are coming in sharp, short, like the last of a fading man (and even that much shakes the shell of flesh and bone he has become).
“Tell me!” Kadaj demands, using his free hand to pull Shinra’s chin up at a doubtlessly painful angle. Leaning forward, he runs his tongue down the man’s throat, biting at the collarbone, and he can feel the sounds of pained revulsion and shame beating through the skin there. “Tell me.”
Shinra’s hands grip the metal even tighter, muscles pulling, self straining to drag them back. He jerks one last time; Kadaj smiles. “Die.”
The smile remains as Kadaj casually inspects his hand, considering the mess in his palm before nonchalantly wiping it off on the President’s jacket. Shinra doesn’t move; even when Kadaj releases his chin he merely slumps, falling into a lump of nothing, like a ruined doll. Chuckling under his breath, Kadaj leans forward, all false loving attention and sharp tenderness, and kisses the cloth around the man’s eyes, giggling in the back of his throat.
Standing, Kadaj turns, the floorboards screeching under powerful steps as he heads for the door. It doesn’t matter that the President didn’t speak, kept as quiet as those beloved men of his under the sword. Yazoo has doubtlessly collected the children that will lead them to mother, by now. They no longer need further assistance, especially from a man so—
Kadaj stops in his tracks, unsure he heard properly over the sound of his own footsteps. But, as sure as he heard it before, it comes again: an exhausted, mocking laugh.
Turning on a heel, he glares back at Shinra, and does not even remember to keep the confusion from his face. The man sits, slumped in his cage, staring up with sightless eyes, but is still laughing weakly. Slowly lifting one of his maimed wrists (it shakes, but moves nonetheless), Shinra pushes the cloth up, exposing one wicked eye. He fixes Kadaj with a stare, smiles coyly. “You weren’t as good as your big brother,” he says, and replaces the cloth.
When Kadaj leaves again, Rufus Shinra splayed across the floor (still smiling) with the wheel of the chair squeaking indignantly, his steps are not nearly as imposing.
Author/Artist: anime_angel_ash
Rating: R
Spoilers: For Advent Children
Warnings: Rape as torture
Word Count: 1661
Summary: Rufus Shinra does not understand his proper place in the new world wrought for Jenova’s children. Clearly, this is something that Kadaj must teach him.
Prompt: June 20 - Final Fantasy 7, Kadaj/Rufus Shinra: sensory deprivation - What's wrong? Are you still afraid of the dark?
A/N: Yeesh! So many dub/non-cons for me this round! Thankfully, this is the last of them. Drains the spirit, these do.
The President is not cooperating.
Kadaj stands casually in the open doorway, the tiniest of smiles gracing his lips as he gazes upon the crippled man. It almost seems excessive to have him locked up in here; he is already trapped in a cage of his own making, of metal and filthy cloth. It isn’t as if he would be able to escape if lock and key were spared. Still, there is something delightful about imprisoning a kidnapper.
The smirk never leaving his face, Kadaj steps into the room, keeping his strides slow and menacing. The room’s only window—which would’ve looked out onto the center of Edge had it not been shaded and coated with filth—casts a sickly light over the room and provides just enough light to show that Rufus Shinra has not budged in the face of Kadaj’s advance. Not unusual, unfortunately. After hours in Kadaj’s custody, the President has yielded naught but lies, despite the pain, the threats, and the screams of his beaten men playing back to him from Loz’s cellphone.
But he is not invincible. He is no big brother Sephiroth, and Kadaj doubts he is even a match for brother Cloud. Rufus Shinra may not be cooperating, but he is just a man. A man who, like all the others, can be easily broken.
“Your men aren’t coming for you.”
Shinra does not move, not even the sickly fingers that lay over the edge of his armrest, small and white and weak. Even now they lay across the chair’s control, useless as it has been made by torn cables, and the sight sings of retribution. Kadaj’s smile grows as he approaches, wringing a strip of black fabric between his own black fingers.
“They’re dead.”
Shinra is nothing if not proud. He continues to stay still, does not even lift his chin as Kadaj draws closer, the old floorboards creaking like shrieks beneath his feet. But he is afraid, Kadaj realizes as he kneels before the man and reaches for his delicate hand. He can feel it shake, and as he lifts his head to look into the shadows where Shinra’s eyes should have been, Kadaj’s smile grows even wider. “You’re a liar,” he tells the helpless shadows. “And a thief.”
He stands slowly, curling the black cloth around his fingers and snapping it between his fists. He reaches under Shinra’s filthy wrap—he’ll have to wash his hands after this—covering the President’s eyes with the cloth and tying it unnecessarily tight. He can feel Shinra tense, useless muscles coiling as Kadaj brushes ominously against his shoulder, his neck, the side of his face. Kadaj can’t help but chuckle. Just like a man of Shinra’s supposed power to be afraid of the dark.
“You know I don't believe you lost Mother,” Kadaj says, and there isn’t question to be found there. He leans forward, looking into eyes that can’t see (never could, but now truly can’t). “You know where she is.”
Shinra’s breath catches a little, but he holds it well. Kadaj can’t help but giggle in glee at the sight; obviously, the man has known fear. It gets even better when he takes the man’s chin in the palm of his hand, gently, sinisterly stroking the hollow of Shinra’s neck, his pretty politician’s throat where the fear is gathering.
He could kill Rufus Shinra. At this very moment, Kadaj holds the leader of the Shinra company—the virtual ruler of the world—in his hand, helpless as a child. It is truly a testament to Mother’s power when even something as incomplete as Kadaj can master what was once the Planet’s most powerful man.
But to kill is not to master. To kill is simply that, and that is hardly the appropriate course of action to take with the President. He has stolen Mother. He does not understand his proper place in the new world wrought for Jenova’s children. Clearly, this is something that Kadaj must teach him.
The horror and disgust is evident in Shinra’s face as Kadaj bites down on the man’s bottom lip, tracing his tongue over the now-maimed skin with a chuckle in his throat. Shinra tries to jerk back, lifts his hands to push Kadaj away. Kadaj, in turn, slams them back down, the barely healed bones of Shinra’s wrists practically groaning with the stress. Shinra hisses, grimacing at an assailant he can’t see as Kadaj pulls back and runs his tongue over his own lips, licking away gratifying bits of blood. “Where is Mother?” he asks, thrusting his hand between the President’s legs and clutching, and the sound that the man makes is so beautifully agonized that it nearly gives Kadaj chills. “Where is she?”
Shinra leans forward—head too big, too heavy for his neck—breathing harshly through his teeth. For an instant, Kadaj thinks he might confess. However, the seconds tick by, Shinra says nothing, and Kadaj lets out an irritated yet patient laugh. Fine. He can have it his way.
The next kiss bends Shinra backward, blind eyes directed at the ceiling but the view blocked by the merciless Kadaj. The remnant’s hand is just as insistent, and even as Shinra tries as fiercely as possible to draw away, Kadaj hears the man stifle a groan, feels him getting hard despite his protests. “That’s right,” Kadaj croons, running his tongue over Shinra’s lips and giggling like a boy, if he ever was one. Holding Shinra’s broken body in place with the smallest bit of force, barely leaning on him, Kadaj runs his hand across the President’s diminutive chest, concave stomach. He undoes the clasps of the man’s slacks with a painful kind of care and effortlessly pressing past the waistband.
This is a body its owner meant for females. Kadaj can practically smell them on the President’s skin (whores all), and he wonders if that blonde one Loz and Yazoo had been playing with was one of them. Regardless, Kadaj new this type of man, who used females for pleasure that is best achieved without them. To be touched by a man . . . there is nothing worse, nothing more decimating. Kadaj smiles, and grips tighter.
The way Shinra squirms, hands curling around the arms of his useless wheelchair and meaningless curses spouting from his lips—every self-righteous man’s last line of defense, when all else is lost—is enough to make Kadaj himself hard (the cock in his hand is a pretty impressive incentive, too). It’s made all the sweeter by the man’s blindness, the way he struggles to see because humans know nothing beyond what their often ill-advised eyes tell them. Without that, all Rufus Shinra can do is feel. Kadaj laughs again at the thought, a cackle that echoes through the room, and strokes faster, more feverishly; he will break this man.
Shinra’s drawn back as far as he can, now, up against the back of his wheeled trap, a rabbit cornered by a wolf. He has a cry of desperation all his own, however: reluctant, shaking breaths to a rabbit’s awkward screams. As the wolf does, Kadaj follows, moving his hand from between Shinra’s legs just long enough to wrench the man’s knees apart and step between them, more like a guest than an intruder. Pressing his knees against Shinra’s thighs, effectively locking them in place, he traces his hand along one with a smirk.
“You’re not worthy of her,” Kadaj says as his hand reaches the President’s cock, laughs mockingly as the man groans in despair. He can already feel the telling jolts in the man’s weak hips, and laughs even harder. It only took this long. How pathetic. “Where is she?”
Shinra’s breaths are coming in sharp, short, like the last of a fading man (and even that much shakes the shell of flesh and bone he has become).
“Tell me!” Kadaj demands, using his free hand to pull Shinra’s chin up at a doubtlessly painful angle. Leaning forward, he runs his tongue down the man’s throat, biting at the collarbone, and he can feel the sounds of pained revulsion and shame beating through the skin there. “Tell me.”
Shinra’s hands grip the metal even tighter, muscles pulling, self straining to drag them back. He jerks one last time; Kadaj smiles. “Die.”
The smile remains as Kadaj casually inspects his hand, considering the mess in his palm before nonchalantly wiping it off on the President’s jacket. Shinra doesn’t move; even when Kadaj releases his chin he merely slumps, falling into a lump of nothing, like a ruined doll. Chuckling under his breath, Kadaj leans forward, all false loving attention and sharp tenderness, and kisses the cloth around the man’s eyes, giggling in the back of his throat.
Standing, Kadaj turns, the floorboards screeching under powerful steps as he heads for the door. It doesn’t matter that the President didn’t speak, kept as quiet as those beloved men of his under the sword. Yazoo has doubtlessly collected the children that will lead them to mother, by now. They no longer need further assistance, especially from a man so—
Kadaj stops in his tracks, unsure he heard properly over the sound of his own footsteps. But, as sure as he heard it before, it comes again: an exhausted, mocking laugh.
Turning on a heel, he glares back at Shinra, and does not even remember to keep the confusion from his face. The man sits, slumped in his cage, staring up with sightless eyes, but is still laughing weakly. Slowly lifting one of his maimed wrists (it shakes, but moves nonetheless), Shinra pushes the cloth up, exposing one wicked eye. He fixes Kadaj with a stare, smiles coyly. “You weren’t as good as your big brother,” he says, and replaces the cloth.
When Kadaj leaves again, Rufus Shinra splayed across the floor (still smiling) with the wheel of the chair squeaking indignantly, his steps are not nearly as imposing.
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Date: 2008-06-20 05:23 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-06-21 10:04 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-06-20 07:49 pm (UTC)Ahhh! Original prompter is like... busting at the seams, this was absolutely wicked! I loved how you captured Kadaj's childish nature in this, it's very eerie and *shiver.*
And oh dear, I believe Rufus won that round!
Thank you so much, it's like... exactly what I had in mind for that prompt! but more delicious because I fail at imagining teh pornz
no subject
Date: 2008-06-21 10:05 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-06-20 10:02 pm (UTC)Marvelous, marvelous work.
no subject
Date: 2008-06-21 10:05 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-06-08 05:52 am (UTC)ZING never sounded so good 83
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Date: 2009-06-24 11:46 pm (UTC)