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Guilt

Vincent Valentine knew two things at that exact moment - the first was that he had yet again failed at protecting someone he was supposed to be keeping safe and the second was that he'd be hard-pressed to look at himself in the mirror in the morning.

Or ever.

At least Kadaj was nearly asleep now, still naked beside him as he lost himself in his own noisy mind. He thought about covering the young man up, though he'd first want to get a towel from the bathroom and clean the semen from Kadaj's stomach and the combination of fluids from between his legs.

Vincent knew there had been blood, too... he just didn't want to look again.

What he should have done was resisted, though Vincent was doubtful that any man could have continuously resisted Kadaj's unique charm. No, the more Kadaj remembered, the more dangerous and strangely alluring he became. Not lethally dangerous - not anymore, but... Vincent longed for the time when Kadaj had been confused and innocent, looking for his 'mother', Aerith, and clinging to his cloak like a child might.

The change had been so gradual, so subtle yet obvious - Kadaj had eventually remembered everything and taken it very nearly in stride. And at the same time, their relationship had changed, with Kadaj asking damned stupid questions, taunting, teasing.

Vincent had sworn not to lash out and do something he'd regret. And for awhile, he'd managed.

He had, however, ended up doing a hundred or so things in the last couple of hours that were now threatening to eat him alive. Each kiss, each touch, each thrust into the tight heat of Kadaj's body had damned him a little more.

He couldn't protect anyone.

Kadaj stirred beside him, sleepily reaching out to grab the cool metal of Vincent's left arm, effectively trapping Vincent where he was. Vincent understood that gesture... and tried not to think about it.

However, he couldn't help replaying it - Kadaj returning after getting in another pointless fist fight, Vincent bandaging his hand and saying something stupid about remembering where fighting had gotten him before.

Kadaj had retorted with an absolutely burning comment.

And Vincent had grabbed him and tried to say something calm and collected and had instead ended up kissing him to silence him and keeping him that way.

Kadaj had almost been scared at first, but had allowed Vincent to continue. There had been no slow seduction, only an outpouring of misplaced feeling, perhaps from them both.

Vincent couldn't help but remember Kadaj writhing beneath him, softly demanding more and trying to somehow be the one in control.

There was, Vincent noticed, in fact blood on the sheets. He looked away, yet still spoke to the silver-haired young man.

"Don't you want a bath?" he asked. He wanted to ask if Kadaj was in any pain.

"Was this what you wanted?" Kadaj questioned in return, green eyes glittering as he crawled onto Vincent's lap. "Not with me, I mean..."

"That's..." Vincent was lost for words, able to only replay every thrust into Kadaj, every motion of his good hand on Kadaj's erection. Kadaj kept touching him, slowly reaching up to tug on a bit of Vincent's black hair.

He didn't have an answer. But he knew there was no way he could go back to trying to protect Kadaj. He'd failed.

Kadaj smiled.

Vincent had been defeated by himself.