"Incubus" and the general overall concept of "Incubus" is completely copyright Orin Drake 2002-2004. Everything else is owned by Squaresoft, as this is a Final Fantasy 7 fan fiction piece. And a damn good one, may I add.
Background: And finally, the third installment of the "Recoil Final Fantasy 7 Trilogy". Somewhat loosely inspired by Recoil's "Incubus", this is probably the "last" of this sort... but who knows. This may or may not explain Sephiroth's and Vincent's connection through Kyrie's universe, as I'm not entirely certain myself. Enjoy.

Incubus
by Orin Drake

Truth was, there weren't many places to go in that damned city, even in darkest night, that were completely abandoned--and there were far fewer places that could ever be classified as "safe". To further the wickedness of truth, he found himself dressed like a long-haired, one-armed soldier of some sort. That... would not be taken lightly in any circles. Especially not the homeless sector, willing to kill anything related to Shin-Ra. Then there were the whores, which were fine one-on-one but damn dangerous in packs. He doubted any amount of time would change that fact.
So what the bloody bowels of hell was he to do?
He stumbled around the dead parts of that wretched wasteland for hours, wondering just that. He had nowhere to go. He had nothing to do. And for all he knew, the world had changed... but not this city, that was for sure. Maybe some buildings were rubble, but... they always had been, deep down. Rotten from the blueprints to the steel.
He found thoughts of that wonderful, horrible chrome man following his motions with disturbing frequency. At first it was easy to press away in favor of trying to come up with a plan merely to survive... but then it just kept coming. Pulsating quietly at the edge of his consciousness like a heartbeat. Like breathing. And if he stopped moving, stopped trying to think of other things, he'd be able to focus more clearly on it... and it would take him over...
He thrust an old lamppost over in anger. It shattered before it even made contact with the ground, both from the sheer force of his emotions and because it had been rotted from the inside out. Ah, how symbolic that was... That man of his dreams, that cold and beautiful nightmare, taking him apart from the inside out... how could he be so haunted by anyone? Yet alone a man? Granted those two orgasms circling the vision of the creature had been far better than he'd imagined possible, more than the simple profoundness of physical pleasure, but... even then. He'd never been so obsessed with the million women before that... but none of them had been so... so...
No. His own mind was tricking him. He completely denied the very existence of the obsession, electing instead to wander aimlessly. Looking up to get his bearings on a direction, however... that was the building. The same building he'd been sitting across from hours earlier, being the perfect voyeur.
So much for aimless wandering. "Fuck." He spoke to himself, the very word taking on a wholly different meaning from what he'd expected... and yet didn't understand. None of this was within his range of understanding, and that's what was so goddamn aggravating. Frustrating.
There was nowhere to go. And there was nothing to do. So what was next? What the hell was to come next?!
Slivers of wicked thoughts caught his mind by surprise--and more surprising still, he smiled bitterly because of them. Yes, that was just what he should do, wasn't it? That was just the best damn thing to make a horrible situation even worse. He should see for certain, to be able to find out, to know... make it end, cause it all to be relieved...
And so he moved carefully, closer to the building. His intentions were sick, totally disturbing... and he knew that. He accepted that. He could take any punishment in the world just to be able to touch the cold creature... to see if he were real... and to cause all of these horrible things inside of him to stop, one way or another.

It was a Shin-Ra building, alright. The locks were simple, and the guards were already too tired to fight off careful blows to the head from a skilled assassin. No need to actually kill them... not yet...
More locks and security codes, just as easy to pass through as they always had been. Morons. He truly wondered about the state of things... not that any of them mattered. He was rather hoping that he'd never have to worry about little things like that again.
Part of him cried out to turn back while he still could and run, as fast and as far away from the place as he could--but that part of him was not one that had experienced the last orgasm, apparently. The further he crept, the more floors he climbed, the more... animalistic some raw voice inside him became; louder than his own, louder even than the teasing one that haunted him in his worst moments. It was as if he were scenting the dream man's blood, searching frantically to... to end something. That alone was not a thought that he cared to reflect on, nor was the ease and speed at which he gracefully shifted through the shadows, closer and faster toward his goal.
Whatever that was to be. He came to a dead stop momentarily atop the last stairway, wondering exactly what the hell he was actually doing then and there; really doing. It was the right floor... looking the right direction... and he knew in his mind's eye that he'd counted windows and rooms correctly... Even if he hadn't had that sort of a perfect memory, there would have been no denying where that chrome creature had been. Or, perhaps... still was.
He was... here. Wherever else that was, for all the meaning it held...
His legs felt on the verge of collapse as he waited at the door. For what, he didn't know. Certainly not an invitation--in frustration and a blossoming carnal fear, it seemed his own leg had decided to kick the door long before his brain had given it permission.
He paused, wide-eyed, to see the door splinter and crack away from its hinges. Even the knob and the inside locks themselves rose from the wood though it had been a piece of driftwood. Strange that such an easily broken door would harbor one of Shin-Ra's elites... certainly he couldn't have been the cause. He'd always trained well, but never to be that strong.
Logic completely fell away as he laid his eyes on the domain of his most recent and strongest fantasy, stepping in without pause, without thought. It was sparse, no doubt... a cold, sterile feeling gripped the room. But, underneath it all... he knew. He was within the living quarters of his most magnificent desire--
--Raw energy ripped mercilessly through his body. The most immediate sensation was crackling, burning pain--and then an almost pleasant numbness. Darkness... sleepy nothing...

Small bits of sparkle in the dark. Like snowflakes, but not. Though, if not, then... what was he seeing, and why did it strike him so oddly?
Ah, because his eyes were closed, of course. The fact that he'd lost consciousness didn't even strike him as odd until he tried to sit up and get his bearings; then panic grasped every molecule of his being like a living thing, a monster's maw around him with teeth ready to shred him to pieces...
He was on his back, bound; wrists tied together, to the headboard. Worse than that, far worse--he was naked. Completely exposed. In an entirely different location from the last one he remembered. In fact, this looked more like some... seedy hotel...
Something more that simple panic made a cold sheen of sweat over his body turn burning hot. Whatever had happened, he hadn't seen it... hadn't understood. Yanking at the ties yielded only whimpers as the rough fibers tightened over wrists made delicate with time. He assumed it was only the godawful shit that Hojo was pumping into his body while he slept that kept everything from complete atrophy--
Footsteps. Long, perfectly patterned footsteps... harsh, heel then toe, click-click, wisp, click-click... steps on a mission. And worse, coming closer.
He took a quick, desperate look around the room to find something to escape with, to fight with, anything--but all that he saw was the bed under him, a small window covered in tattered material that was obviously not a curtain, and a door on the other side. A single door with a single lock... and the footsteps had stopped.
There wasn't even opportunity for his heart to pound, no wait before a key slid easily into the lock and turned in one motion. The door opened, the puddle of dim light from outside spreading slowly.
No. No. It wasn't, because it simply could not be. What he saw... was not possible. That could not be the chrome man of his dreams... could not be the creature he'd jerked off to admittedly more than once, closing and locking the door before turning back to him...
No!!! his mind screamed, causing him to yank against the bonds again, digging his heels into the old mattress to get any sense of control.
The cold man only regarded him from a distance, the look on his face betraying none of his thoughts... perhaps save one. From where he stood, the entire scene was... breathtaking. This pale, beautiful creature with the most unusual eyes, laid out before him...
Realizing with a horrible certainty that he was not going to escape, his struggles ceased for the moment. Taking note of his nakedness again, he snapped his legs tightly together to still the shaking in them. Being forced knee-deep into the reality of the situation, it was all he had to protect himself. He knew he couldn't have been doing a very good job at disguising his outright helpless dread when the silver-haired man carefully stepped around to the other side of the bed... and advanced. There was no waiting, neither patience nor a lack of it in the man's motions as he leaned in, mattress dipping just a bit. Like the military darling he was, he cut directly to the chase.
"I saw you outside my window." He whispered, his lips ghosting the former Turk's ear.
In turn, he went completely cold. He must have been caught at the very end of it, must have been seen--
"And I thought you were very beautiful." The chrome man finished quietly. "I couldn't help but think... that I wanted you for myself..."
His entire body stiffened. Ignoring the horrible possibilities, the tension of the bindings around his wrists, not to mention the steadily numbing organic hand and both arms losing circulation, it seemed as though his mind had absolutely shut down. This was not happening, this was not happening...
"This is happening." The metal creature growled. "I will not allow you to deny that."
Ruby eyes went wide, staring past everything in his field of vision. Those words... something so horribly final about those words...
"There is a monster inside of you..." the living nightmare whispered almost gently, his tone conversational despite the depths of terrifying mystery around it. "I hope you learn how to use it. Better than to fear it, don't you think?"
How could he even think to respond? He didn't look, didn't want to see how close the other man was to him--he could already feel it. Both heat and a peculiar kind of cold that was more than mere sensation radiated off of the body edging closer, breath smelling of Mako and... desire...
"You don't even understand what you are now..." the silver monster continued to tease deviously, both with his words and with the feather-light touch he placed on his prisoner's hip. He couldn't risk his captive's thought process to spark too wildly before the time was right. "You've yet to see yourself in a mirror. Yet to understand your needs..." Oh, there was so much more he could say... and yet the silence and the touch was far better.
To his surprise and horror, that so slight caress brought about a helplessness he had never experienced before. It was... oh, gods, it was a need he'd never fathomed possible, and his body was responding. No, damn you!!! his mind screamed at the rest of him so loudly that he honestly thought he could hear it. By all rights an accident, his vision finally returned to the dream obsession next to him... and that terrible, knowing grin. He quivered with the idea that perhaps it was not he, himself, that should be concerned about what he may or may not hear...
The chrome man lifted from the bed, his eyes on his captive the entire time. Ah, yes. No reason to hold back any longer. The adrenaline was surging... and that was just perfect.
There was no shyness in his motions, no suggestions of teasing. Nor of waiting. Little as the bound man truly wanted to take his eyes from the undressing form in front of him, a fear of proportions previously unfathomable was overtaking his entire consciousness. I have no choice in this. He's not slowing down. He's going to... No, wait. Wait! I don't think I want this. Not this way. Wait!
But the cold silver-tressed man persisted, wordlessly. Long coat dropped on the floor behind him, he flaunted his perfect physique for hardly a second before he began unstrapping his shoulder armor, pulling the gloves off effortlessly as he went.
Considering the unfortunate circumstances of being held against his will, the bound gentleman found that it didn't matter how quickly the clothes were discarded--everything was taking place in a nightmarish slow motion. Time seemed viscous, perhaps only because he wanted it so badly to be. Why, exactly... he didn't even wish to figure out. Pride dictated that he not so much as attempt to struggle again, but pride be damned. He tugged once more at the bindings in hopes either they or the headboard would give way...
--And stopped abruptly before he truly understood why. It was not a sensation he was used to, but his eyes all too cruelly allowed him to take the situation apart bit by bit. The chrome creature's hands rested on the former Turks' knees... waiting. Watching. Ready.
Even with all of the strength he could muster to keep them together, his legs parted easily under the metal creature's force--at least, that's what he had to believe. He had to keep his wits about him, had to reason that he was fighting this, that he was trying to escape from the pain, these clutches...
No time wasted, the nightmare took his opportunity to climb stop his prisoner, bare flesh meeting in a rush of nearly agonizing heat. While the body beneath tensed, his own lay almost comfortably above for a moment, hands moving along the other's sides slowly to take in everything the lithe body had to offer. Smooth, tone, perfect...
And then both pairs of unnaturally colored eyes met, and locked. Cold and metal though the man atop him was, those eyes were the most perfect green... Bitterness and lust existed within them in equal proportions, but somehow only the lust truly came through in them. Lust and... and what was that... terrible other thing..?
Please... the raven-haired man's his lips moved, but his breath did not. What he was asking for truly escaped him... he just knew that he couldn't give it all up so easily.
The very chance to surrender or to fight was not granted. No reason and no time to waste, the beast above brought his not so willing partner into full initiation.
It was a terribly brutal act of violence- even though the former Turk screamed so loudly that his voice no longer worked, one portion of his body that Hojo had generally neglected went completely rigid. It shouldn't have, given the situation... but somehow perfectly erect, it throbbed in steadily increasing significance... but not with the pain.
The chrome beast withdrew completely, then rammed himself back inside. The broken cry from underneath only made his smirk wider. He was so tempted to allow himself to be sated there and then, to enjoy the body beneath and cast the rest ot hell... but he retained his composure with another brutal thrust, settling into the sheer thrill of it all. Another cry was ripped from below before he slowed down slightly. Just enough to lean in close...
As the victim felt the beautiful creature above him merely trace his neck and shoulder with a tongue far too warm for his imagination, he had no indication of what was to come on the next stroke. Even as part of his mind knew that the side of his neck had been pierced with the dream-man's teeth, the pain seemed to wait, welling up for a moment like blood before its full weight dropped on him. Regardless of his massively strained vocal chords, he was able to manage a shriek; something deep in the core of himself forced him to flail desperately, to try to get away harder and more determined than ever before in his life without thought given to the damaged flesh around his wrist....
The creature of silver only grinned inwardly, taking as much blood in one swallow as he could. With that cold expression holding the ruby eyes in their grasp, he reached up and yanked at the ropes holding the other man's wrists. The bindings seemed to disintegrate in his hands with his impatient strength, allowing his victim his arms back.
He could have fought. He could have gone for those otherworldly eyes with his new hand and torn his way straight for the brain. But, gods help him...
The cold and wicked beast above cried out sharply, catching the brunt of a clawed metal hand down his back--but it only drove him onward. Blood, heat, lust, pain; the rhythm got faster, harder, steadily driving both men into something beyond mere physical force. They were moving like no mortals ever could, within realms that neither of them had experienced before or likely would ever after.
Beyond sex, beyond sensation, beyond understanding--he could feel something... awaken within him. Even as he felt his most horrible and most desired dream pull away for only long enough to give another full thrust, he felt... something else, erupting, pulsing within.
He was bleeding. He felt it and smelled it... and even if he hadn't, he'd have liked to believe he was, anyway. It wouldn't have seemed... right, were he not bleeding. A price to pay. Blood to taste. And maybe, just maybe, his blood would infect the chrome creature as the discarded liquid inside of him was no doubt already infecting his body.
A hand of all extremes--rough, gentle, hot, cold, pleasuring, painful--closed around him. His scream was hardly a grunt as he came with the force of the beginning of time--then two strong hands wound around his throat. And he did not mind. Gods be praised, he did not mind. He could die this way. This would be a rightful way to die! To perish! And his lovely, horrible chrome creature would be the rightful one to end it all...

...Not dead.
...Not alive, certainly.
It was far worse... not dead.
He had hoped he was wrong with every breath... but when the sensation of the room was cold and empty... he knew. Even supposing he believed in Hell, he didn't think it could ever be that cold and empty. Were he a religious man, he'd have bet even Heaven wouldn't have been, either.
His flesh ached, inside and out. His body... it felt ground between stones, beaten, burned and buried. His eyes opened slowly to a plain gray-ish ceiling. Frankly, there seemed to exist no more in the world.

He didn't know how long he'd been laying there, and it didn't matter. There was sunlight over in the corner of his peripheral vision... but he hadn't the strength to glance over. Nor the will.
Yes. The will. That was a funny thing. A horribly bastard-ish quality. Oh, for a drink. His world for a bender that he'd never have to wake up from.
The thought had somehow succeeded in disgusting him enough to get him to sit up--and what a fucking mistake that was. Still raw, his voice hardly cracked a high-pitched hiss as he tried to shout a curse at the pain. Certainly that indicated that his insides had been turned to mush, didn't it?
And yet there we was, sitting, smarting, wiping tears from his watering eyes at the agony. ...Or was that it?
He made a half-hearted fist at that goddamn part of his mind that always cruelly contradicted him. It may have been gods knew how many years since he was officially a Turk, but he didn't need to break down at the thought that... that... what? What did he have to think about anymore?
Well, looking down, clothing was something of a priority if he wanted to make it out of a seedy hotel alive. Though he was still a bit unsure of how much he treasured that last part...
Rubbing his eyes to clear them, he leaned over slightly to pop his back... and noticed a change of clothes waiting for him on the floor at the foot of the bed. They were quite a departure from his Turk suit... and somehow he didn't mind. Basic black when it came to both shirts and pants was never a thing he minded... but the red of the cloak somehow sent an epic shudder down his spine, almost making him recoil with memories of awakening in the lab.
And then, buckling the cloak into place... he knew. It was a fate he understood that he needed to accept some day. Making it easier on himself... "some day" may as well be that very instant. Shin-Ra would come. Hojo would be looking for him... and certainly after the night he'd just had, after Shin-Ra's most precious possession had claimed him... there would be no hiding. Running, maybe, but not for long.
It was enough to drive any man to madness... but he thought he'd already been there and safely come back--more or less. His fate may as well be accepted. And, sitting at the foot of the bed... he did just that.

Guards came later in the day. SOLDIERs. Racing up the steps with their guns drawn. But he didn't move. They found him on the edge of the bed, looking out the window. There was no fight for his capture.
Physically, it had been several years since he'd made his way into Hojo's lab. Even escorted by guards, it seemed like no time at all had passed since that moment... the day he'd marched down to demand Lucretia be released from the experiments. Funny thing, time. A thing he was beginning to think he'd have no more worries for.
The guards dropped him off at the door but remained behind to herd him on, no doubt at the mad scientist's insistence. He was always worried about his work being ruined... or stolen. Even by the Shin-Ra employees. Sick little fuck.
He stumbled through the door without a fight, heart hardly pulsing with the sound of the sliding metal and the locking mechanism behind him. His fate had been sealed before then... no sense in mourning it in front of the man he hated.
Hojo stood far too proudly near the other side of the room, noting the way the former Turk walked. Oh yes, it was no secret what had happened to him... and frankly, he was rather glad. Any pain caused was deserved, as far as he was concerned.
Feeling more like a test subject than he had before, his voice relented a strange question. It wasn't something he consciously asked, nor was his voice completely up to the task... but he made do. "That was... the experiment, wasn't it? Lucretia's..."
For once in his miserable life, Hojo appeared to be surprised beyond words. There was a long, blank pause before he found the answer on his lips. "Sephiroth."
Sephiroth. The word turned slowly in his mind... and bore harshly into his stomach. Oh... oh, gods...
A bright bolt of pain ignited his arm before he could pull away. He was able only to look down at the syringe as it was emptied swiftly into his veins, an instantaneous woozy feeling taking that much more out of his resolve. He didn't fight wherever it was that Hojo was dragging him to, nor did he give pause to any of the other thoughts disconnected and floating through his mind. The name stayed, though... Sephiroth... That'd probably been the love child. Mako, Jenova, Hojo and Lucretia... laughable. Horrible.
He felt his body being lifted a bit, then falling. None of it mattered. It felt as if he were being placed in a coffin, in fact. Deep down, he prayed for it to be true. Being buried alive would be a welcome experience after... after that...
Hojo's face suddenly appeared in his vision above. While the man's features were blurred, his voice came through in a clarity too perfect. "He might not be my child." The scientist admitted hatefully. "Let that be in your nightmares for the rest of your miserable existence." And with that, he closed the lid.

Well, finishing the trilogy took me far longer than I ever thought possible. But I do hope you fans enjoy. I suppose what happens next is up to you... unless for some completely inconceivable reason another bit comes to mind and I have to write it down. But then this wouldn't be a trilogy now, would it? *ducks*
Again, I thank my fellow Sephiroth and Vincent fans for their prodding. Dammit, you guys know who you are. And if I mentioned any of you here, that'd only give you more reason to bug me and get away with it. *grin*