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Fic: Winning
Beta: Skeren
Fandom: FFVII
Pairing: Hojo/Lucretia, Vincent
Wordcount: 1,063
Kink: Humilation(situational)
Summary: Hojo gets himself a good memory
It's Valentine's face that Hojo always remembers the clearest. That look of absolute hatred and shame as he looked down at them through the green of the mako.
The room choice had really been more of an accident. The tests had come back with a positive response, showing that the Jenova cells had finally begun to merge with the child's body. If Hojo had learned anything from Hollander's failures, it was that the cells were best mixed with the child directly, as the child that Gillian had carried and not like the one who had had the cells grafted on.
So he and Lucretia had decided to celebrate. They -were- still husband and wife, and, well, both of them were more than a little excited.
Stumbling a bit as they kissed each other, they had made it to a room where they were less likely to be interrupted by one of the fighters sent to keep them safe from the various monsters that rose up from the stagnant mako pools that gathered around each reactor. That was something that Hojo planned on studying at a later date, but at the time, his attention had been on another subject. His rather lovely wife, who was kissing him quite hungrily, eyes bright and glowing from the latest treatment.
It wasn't until he had pressed her against a table, her hands bracing on the wooden top, that he realized what room they were in. The glow of green had given it away, and he decided he didn't care after a moment. Let Valentine watch. He could do nothing, and Lucretia was pressing back against Hojo in ways that were highly distracting.
Getting her skirt up and out of the way, panties roughly yanked down as well, was the work of only a few moments, and she made that high, throaty sound as he pressed in. She felt good, and he enjoyed her sounds as he moved. In a way, she was a prize he had won, and Hojo -liked- to win. She had chosen him for her husband, her lover, and even if the opposition was merely a Turk, it was still good to know he had won.
There was a thunk, and Hojo glanced up. And realized that said Turk was -staring- at them. His eyes were still easy to see through the mako, though the green made them look more brown for the moment. But even so, Hojo could see the hatred in them. And something else.
Not stopping his actions, enjoying the physical, Hojo's mind began to observe Valentine. That other emotion, it made a hot spike of enjoyment rush through Hojo, and he wondered just what it was that made him feel like that. It wasn't Valentine himself, though Hojo admitted the man had his qualities. He simply wasn't interested in men, however.
"We're being watched," he said after a moment, giving a harder thrust to draw out a groan. He loved to hear her groan.
"Just Chaos," she panted out after a moment, looking up and then dismissing the man in the tube. Instead, she clenched around him, drawing a groan of her own from Hojo. If he was going to tie himself to someone, Hojo decided he had made a decent choice here. Brilliant, beautiful, talented in body and mind, and her words were... perfect.
As she said it, because more and more, she had stopped calling Valentine by his name and simply referred to him as his project name, something in his face changed. That emotion was stronger.
Shame.
Another curl of lust, because it felt good to see him taken down like that. To be so utterly discarded by the woman he had tried to 'save' from Hojo and their plan to use their child for the Jenova project.
His princess, if one went with the old fairy tales, totally ignoring him for the villain.
It was delicious.
Hojo slid his hands up and forward, teasing along her breasts, fingers catching buttons to pop them open, exposing her skin to Valentine even as she ignored the man. It didn't matter if he saw them, and Hojo was going to prove it. Besides, Lucretia loved to have her breasts played with, nipples pinched and toyed with. And he loved making her come, to be unable to do otherwise.
Perhaps it's why he enjoyed the look on Valentine's face, because of the level of control. It didn't -matter- that Vincent could see them, it didn't matter that he was watching them. To Lucretia, he was nothing more than a project, something to examine and work on. Not a person in his own right. Not anymore.
It was that look that Hojo carried with him, that look of absolute horror and guilt, and the fact that Valentine had to look away even as Lucretia tilted her head back and shuddered, body going tight and even hotter around Hojo. It was that look of shame that made Hojo remember that time in the labs specifically, letting his wife's orgasm pull his own from him.
That look was the one he thought about when he had days of frustration. When the President was whining about things and Hojo had to placate him, when Sephiroth was being stubborn and refusing to do things.
That look, that utter sense of control, that, no matter what he did, Valentine would never be able to do anything other than be -ignored-. A simple, almost worthless project....
That was the look he thought of when he would release the stresses of the day, Lucretia long gone from his life. Not the memories of her soft, willing body, not for times like this. For times like this, he wanted that feeling of control, to know he could make anyone he wanted simply vanish, to become something less than human in the eyes of others.
It was heady stuff, and he saved it for the days when he needed to feel that control most.
If nothing else, Hojo thought, he would be thankful to Valentine for that. If nothing else, he gave Hojo that.
And the fact that he knew Valentine would hate it only made it more precious for Hojo.
Really, he'd have to thank the man for that someday. Perhaps he should bring back the Chaos project at some point.
It was a good thought for the future.
Beta: Skeren
Fandom: FFVII
Pairing: Hojo/Lucretia, Vincent
Wordcount: 1,063
Kink: Humilation(situational)
Summary: Hojo gets himself a good memory
It's Valentine's face that Hojo always remembers the clearest. That look of absolute hatred and shame as he looked down at them through the green of the mako.
The room choice had really been more of an accident. The tests had come back with a positive response, showing that the Jenova cells had finally begun to merge with the child's body. If Hojo had learned anything from Hollander's failures, it was that the cells were best mixed with the child directly, as the child that Gillian had carried and not like the one who had had the cells grafted on.
So he and Lucretia had decided to celebrate. They -were- still husband and wife, and, well, both of them were more than a little excited.
Stumbling a bit as they kissed each other, they had made it to a room where they were less likely to be interrupted by one of the fighters sent to keep them safe from the various monsters that rose up from the stagnant mako pools that gathered around each reactor. That was something that Hojo planned on studying at a later date, but at the time, his attention had been on another subject. His rather lovely wife, who was kissing him quite hungrily, eyes bright and glowing from the latest treatment.
It wasn't until he had pressed her against a table, her hands bracing on the wooden top, that he realized what room they were in. The glow of green had given it away, and he decided he didn't care after a moment. Let Valentine watch. He could do nothing, and Lucretia was pressing back against Hojo in ways that were highly distracting.
Getting her skirt up and out of the way, panties roughly yanked down as well, was the work of only a few moments, and she made that high, throaty sound as he pressed in. She felt good, and he enjoyed her sounds as he moved. In a way, she was a prize he had won, and Hojo -liked- to win. She had chosen him for her husband, her lover, and even if the opposition was merely a Turk, it was still good to know he had won.
There was a thunk, and Hojo glanced up. And realized that said Turk was -staring- at them. His eyes were still easy to see through the mako, though the green made them look more brown for the moment. But even so, Hojo could see the hatred in them. And something else.
Not stopping his actions, enjoying the physical, Hojo's mind began to observe Valentine. That other emotion, it made a hot spike of enjoyment rush through Hojo, and he wondered just what it was that made him feel like that. It wasn't Valentine himself, though Hojo admitted the man had his qualities. He simply wasn't interested in men, however.
"We're being watched," he said after a moment, giving a harder thrust to draw out a groan. He loved to hear her groan.
"Just Chaos," she panted out after a moment, looking up and then dismissing the man in the tube. Instead, she clenched around him, drawing a groan of her own from Hojo. If he was going to tie himself to someone, Hojo decided he had made a decent choice here. Brilliant, beautiful, talented in body and mind, and her words were... perfect.
As she said it, because more and more, she had stopped calling Valentine by his name and simply referred to him as his project name, something in his face changed. That emotion was stronger.
Shame.
Another curl of lust, because it felt good to see him taken down like that. To be so utterly discarded by the woman he had tried to 'save' from Hojo and their plan to use their child for the Jenova project.
His princess, if one went with the old fairy tales, totally ignoring him for the villain.
It was delicious.
Hojo slid his hands up and forward, teasing along her breasts, fingers catching buttons to pop them open, exposing her skin to Valentine even as she ignored the man. It didn't matter if he saw them, and Hojo was going to prove it. Besides, Lucretia loved to have her breasts played with, nipples pinched and toyed with. And he loved making her come, to be unable to do otherwise.
Perhaps it's why he enjoyed the look on Valentine's face, because of the level of control. It didn't -matter- that Vincent could see them, it didn't matter that he was watching them. To Lucretia, he was nothing more than a project, something to examine and work on. Not a person in his own right. Not anymore.
It was that look that Hojo carried with him, that look of absolute horror and guilt, and the fact that Valentine had to look away even as Lucretia tilted her head back and shuddered, body going tight and even hotter around Hojo. It was that look of shame that made Hojo remember that time in the labs specifically, letting his wife's orgasm pull his own from him.
That look was the one he thought about when he had days of frustration. When the President was whining about things and Hojo had to placate him, when Sephiroth was being stubborn and refusing to do things.
That look, that utter sense of control, that, no matter what he did, Valentine would never be able to do anything other than be -ignored-. A simple, almost worthless project....
That was the look he thought of when he would release the stresses of the day, Lucretia long gone from his life. Not the memories of her soft, willing body, not for times like this. For times like this, he wanted that feeling of control, to know he could make anyone he wanted simply vanish, to become something less than human in the eyes of others.
It was heady stuff, and he saved it for the days when he needed to feel that control most.
If nothing else, Hojo thought, he would be thankful to Valentine for that. If nothing else, he gave Hojo that.
And the fact that he knew Valentine would hate it only made it more precious for Hojo.
Really, he'd have to thank the man for that someday. Perhaps he should bring back the Chaos project at some point.
It was a good thought for the future.
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