|raisedbymoogles (raisedbymoogles) wrote in kinkfest,|
@ 2008-11-29 20:12:00
|Current music:||Winter Born - The Cruxshadows|
Kumo, Final Fantasy 7 (Cloud/Sephiroth)
Warnings: Blood, slavery themes
Prompt: Final Fantasy VII - CloudxSephiroth - scarification - Sephiroth was deeply grateful for the effort Cloud went to mark his ownership on Sephiroth's skin
Word count: 463
Summary: ...Neither of these boys are Quite Right.
It wasn't a secret, that Sephiroth belonged to Cloud, but Sephiroth had still wanted some symbol of his own. Not as a reminder to himself, because he never forgot even for a moment, and not for the benefit of other people, because after Cloud had beaten Rufus again nobody had challenged his right of ownership.
"Like my tattoo," he'd explained haltingly, glancing down at the relic from the days when he was the property of Shinra. It wasn't until the words were said that Cloud and Sephiroth both realized what he wanted. Their eyes had met; Cloud nodded once, and that was all Sephiroth needed.
Even so, it was some time before Cloud made good on his promise. There was research to be done: how to cut the skin without causing undue harm, where the veins were and how to avoid them. Sephiroth didn't think that Cloud would kill him even if he'd just grabbed a knife and started slicing, but the fact that he was going to such trouble for Sephiroth's sake was at once warming and humbling. Cloud got nearly a week of breakfast in bed for that.
Except there came a day when Sephiroth came down to the kitchen to find Cloud waiting for him, a bowl of water and towels and a surgically sharp scalpel arranged on the counter. "Are you ready?" Cloud asked, and Sephiroth could do nothing but nod with his heart in his throat. Cloud bade him sit down, right hand outstretched so that the black tattoo was visible. Cloud put his left hand over Sephiroth's wrist - ostensibly to keep him still, though they both knew that Sephiroth would not flinch. The most the former General would admit to was a slight tension in his wrist as Cloud's blade descended and made its first cut.
The cuts were swift and shallow, nothing compared to what Sephiroth could take, but they sent fire racing up Sephiroth's arm until he had to struggle to keep still. Cloud didn't look up from his work, but his hand tightened over Sephiroth's wrist in commiseration. "Do you need to close your eyes?" he asked.
Sephiroth shook his head slowly, so as not to jar his own arm. "No."
"All right. I'm almost done." Cloud bent close, cutting the last of twelve strokes into the back of Sephiroth's hand. The ideogram kumo - cloud - shone wet and red from Sephiroth's skin, as perfect as either could ask. Cloud leaned back, rolling his shoulders with a sigh. "Give me a minute," he said, "and I'll put on that stuff that'll make it scar." Sephiroth nodded, but he was barely listening, watching his blood well up and blot out the black mark with its own vivid declaration.
I belong to Cloud.