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This wasn’t going well.
In fairness, it wasn’t like he should have expected anything else. He’d always known that his victories against Sephiroth were flukes, just strange turns of luck. The universe should never have allowed him to win against a man like that. Sephiroth was everything anyone could ever ask for—beautiful, strong, deadly, determined, intelligent, he could go on. This wasn’t his old crush talking (Nibelheim had smothered that) but simply an objective truth. Cloud was well aware of all the virtues of his adversary, as much as he was of the simple cruelty he had that made him unapologetic about using those virtues to whatever end he saw fit, no matter the price others paid.
Cloud, similarly, knew his own list of virtues was much smaller. He was strong, maybe, and not bad with a sword, and maybe you could count his stubbornness as a good thing sometimes, but his list of failures was much longer. Weak of will, distant, bad at leading, worse at following directions when he didn’t want to, emotional—he could go on. There was no reason Gaia should have ever allowed him to best Sephiroth not once but twice, except that perhaps it was in her best interest to let him win. He’d chalked it up to that many, many times over the years, whenever his thoughts turned down this road.
But few times, when he contemplated why his triumphs had been allowed, was he facing down a third conflict with his enemy.
Fighting Kadaj had been a struggle, yes, but nothing like fighting Sephiroth. But now that he was fighting Sephiroth again, he couldn’t keep those old thoughts out of his head. That he never should have been allowed to win in the first place. What had been allowed twice surely would not be allowed three times. He was pushing his luck.
Maybe he was distracted by the negative thinking. Maybe a part of him had already decided he was going to lose. Whatever the reason, Cloud kept taking hit after hit after hit, Masamune poking holes in him time and again. This wasn’t a true battle, not like the last. Sephiroth was playing with him, now. Any of those hits could have gone through his heart, but instead they littered his limbs and his sides, away from anything vital. Sephiroth was drawing this out, just to make him suffer, to make it clear to him that whatever had been allowed in the past, there would not be another repeat.
When he ended up suspended on Sephiroth’s sword, the blade just a few centimeters from his heart, it seemed inevitable. Like there was no other way this could have ended. It was a sick parody of their first fight, and it seemed fitting that this would be how this wound up. His great loss, a caricature of his first great victory.
Sephiroth held him dangling in the air as Cloud writhed and coughed, choking on the blood rushing up his throat. He kicked weakly, trying to pull on the sword in his chest, but Sephiroth had been thorough. His mistake the first time was that Cloud had strength left to pull from when he’d lifted him on the blade. Now, after being stabbed dozens of times, he was too weak to do more that struggle in a way that was kittenish at best.
Sephiroth walked him backward until he could pin him to the side of the Shinra Tower, like a butterfly on a board. Cloud dangled there, weak and limp, unable to do more than fight for breath and hold Masamune’s blade in his hands.
“This was a long time coming, Cloud; I’m sure you know that,” Sephiroth said, stepping around the blade to approach. “It will still be a long time coming. After all you have done, I will not allow you to die easily.”
The world was growing dark at the edges. Cloud’s breath was ragged, slow, and shallow. One hand slipped from the blade.
Sephiroth reached him and extended a hand, brushing his fingers gently along the seam of where the blade met Cloud’s skin. He dug his fingertips in and pulled the flesh back, Cloud twitching roughly in response. He pressed his fingers inside, digging the tips in just to make the pain worse. Cloud’s brow furrowed, his eyes pinching shut as he dragged in a shuddering breath. It was like trying to breathe glass.
Then Sephiroth yanked his hand free, tearing a gasp out of Cloud, his whole body jerking. Sephiroth shushed him quietly, reaching up to card his hand through Cloud’s hair, leaving streaks of blood in his wake. The touch was so gentle, so soft it was out entirely out of place. Cloud wasn’t sure how he would have responded to it, only that he was too tired, too weak, too focused on just breathing to do anything but hang there.
“Poor puppet. It’s hard, isn’t it? Dying this way. The life will bleed from you slowly, and I’ll be here to bear witness to every ounce that drifts away. But you didn’t let me die alone, and I will do the same for you.”
Cloud’s breath halted, his eyes flickering open to look up at Sephiroth. He’d thought the man had died too quickly. That surely, surely there was no way he could have known the way he had mourned the man he had known at Shinra, the way he’d held him in that empty, dark void until his body melted away into Lifestream. But when he looked up into that face, saw the mocking edge to his eyes, the smug tilt of his lips, it was clear that he’d born witness to every tear Cloud had shed that day.
Cloud was glad, now, that he was dying. He didn’t think he could live with Sephiroth knowing the way he cared.
Sephiroth reached up and cupped Cloud’s face, his fingertips leaving bloody smudges, his thumb pressing to Cloud’s bottom lip, swiping along the edge of it, painting it red.
“Of course I knew, puppet. I’ve been in your head; did you really think you could hide it from me? That crush of yours might have died, but you still cared, and so deeply. It might not have been the puppy love you had when we used to know one another, but it was love, wasn’t it? Nothing else would make you cry for a dying man that did to you and the world what I had done. You love me, Cloud—or did you really not know?”
Cloud felt his breath speed up in something like panic, but it just wrenched a coughing fit from him, that ended up in blood dripping down his chin, Sephiroth only barely pulling his hand away in time to dodge it. His fingers slid through Cloud’s hair again, coming to cup the back of his head.
Sephiroth couldn’t be right. He couldn’t. He couldn’t love Sephiroth, not after everything. There was no way it was possible. He had mourned the man he had lost at Nibelheim, mourned the friend he had once had, and that was all. If he cried then and not after Sephiroth’s first death, well, he’d been a little occupied at the time, with the labs and all the concerns they brought. He had a chance, and the privacy of that void, to mourn then, so he’d taken the opportunity. That was all.
Sephiroth laughed, and it was mocking.
“You didn’t know, did you? Oh, Cloud,” he said, and the twist of his voice was almost fond. “How could you not? I consumed your thoughts—or did you think that was hate?”
“I do hate you,” Cloud choked out, wheezing his words.
“Oh of course you hate me. But you love me just as dearly. Perhaps more.”
Cloud shook his head weakly, but everything was getting so dark. Sephiroth sounded like he was speaking a thousand miles away.
“We are bound together, Cloud, by things we hardly understand. You cannot be rid of me, but I have no intention of letting you go, either. But that does not mean I will not let you die.”
Before Cloud had time to wonder what that meant, everything faded to black.
There was a wide nothingness that just barely started to fade to green at the edges, and then it vanished in a flash.
Cloud jerked, gasping like a drowning man resurfacing. He breathed quickly, looking around, trying to gather what had happened. Then he groaned around the white-hot ache in his chest and looked down to find Masamune’s familiar shape buried in him.
It came back in a rush.
His head shot up to see Sephiroth looking at him with something strange in his eyes.
“I have waited so long to kill you,” Sephiroth said, in a voice that trembled at the edges. “It feels as good as I had imagined.”
Cloud bared his teeth, but the Revive spell Sephiroth had cast healed him enough to resume the fight. He grabbed Masamune in a firm hand and went to yank it from his chest, but Sephiroth grabbed it as well and held it firmly in place. It became a battle of strength, and when it came down to it, Sephiroth simply was stronger than he was.
The sword didn’t budge.
“No, Cloud, don’t you understand? I have a point to make here.”
“Which is?”
“That you are mine, in every way that matters. Your life is mine, to use or to take as I will. I have allowed you to live thus far, but you have killed me twice, and that cannot stand. I will not allow you to forget your place. So I will kill you, again and again, until you understand that you live and die by my hand alone. It is by my grace that you draw breath. It will be by my grace that you cease to.”
“You don’t own me,” Cloud snapped. “I’m not yours.”
“As I said. I will make my point as many times as I have to for it to sink in.”
“What does—” was as far as Cloud got before Sephiroth’s hands closed around his throat.
He tried to pry his fingers off, but he couldn’t manage. Sephiroth’s sheer strength would always overwhelm his own. That was why he used his speed and unpredictability to win their fights; it was the only hope he had. If he allowed things to come to this kind of simple contest, it was clear who the winner would be.
The world started to grow dark again, and Sephiroth said, “As many times as it takes, Cloud.”
The world went black. It turned green at the edges. Then Cloud woke up again.
Sephiroth’s hands were still around his throat, but they were touching lightly now, almost gently. His fingers stroked the soft skin there.
“Do you understand yet?”
“I’m not—yours.”
Sephiroth sighed his frustration.
“How many times, puppet? How many times will you make me kill you?”
“No one’s making you kill me.”
“You are, by being stubborn.”
“People die all the time. The only remarkable thing you’re doing here is bringing me back, and I’ve seen that done a dozen times.”
“Have you ever died before, Cloud?”
They both knew the answer. Because they both knew, Cloud just scowled at him.
Sephiroth said, “You haven’t, because your life is forfeit to me alone. I have this power over you. No other being alive is strong enough to kill you. I am the only one worthy of this. Just as you are the only one worthy of having my blood on your hands.”
“This is twisted. No one’s worth is decided by who they kill.”
“Yours is. You are the great thing that you are because you are capable of killing me. I was worthy of you regardless.”
“Flattering. Real flattering.”
Sephiroth smiled, lifting one hand to stroke Cloud’s cheek again. He had the strength, this time, to turn his face from the touch, but Sephiroth’s hand just followed.
“You don’t love me because I flatter you.”
Cloud could feel his face heat, but he would deny it until he died. Which didn’t seem likely to be far off.
“I don’t love you at all.”
“Cloud,” Sephiroth said, curling the word around his tongue, a light scolding.
“I don’t.”
“You love me desperately. With every part of you. You could no more tear your love for me out of you than you could remove my cells from you. Like it or not, Cloud, we are intertwined at every level.”
“What, does that mean you love me too?” Cloud shot, wrinkling his nose and raising an eyebrow.
“Of course,” Sephiroth admitted easily. When Cloud’s expression went slack, he said, “Did you not know? I love you terribly, Cloud. That is why I need to own you. That is why I will possess you in every way that matters. I love you, and I will make you mine.”
Cloud stared down at him in shock, not even protesting as Sephiroth trailed his fingers over his cheek and down his throat.
“That is why I will have your blood on my hands, as you have had mine,” Sephiroth continued. He tightened his hands around Cloud’s neck again. “I’ll kill you as many times as it takes for you to know your place.”
Cloud’s lips formed a curse, but he couldn’t get the word past his lips. He dug his fingers in around Sephiroth’s again, but as he felt his air slip away from him, he knew it was still hopeless.
Growing blackness. Nothing. Green.
Light.
“Stop,” Cloud choked. Sephiroth’s hands loosened, and he coughed raggedly. “Just stop, just—wait.”
“Are you ready to listen?” Sephiroth asked, his finger tracing the line of Cloud’s pulse.
“You don’t have to keep killing me,” Cloud said, his mind racing, trying to find a way out of this.
He was stuck, now. The blade in his chest was an obvious issue, but the bigger problem was Sephiroth’s hands around his throat. His position was hopeless. Sephiroth was going to keep killing him, over and over, until he got what he wanted. But what he wanted was something Cloud couldn’t give. He couldn’t admit to loving Sephiroth, he just—he couldn’t. Even if, deep in his bones, he had an inkling that it might be true, he couldn’t admit to it.
But there was something else he could do, something that might get a similar point across, without costing Cloud the last bit of his dignity, without making him compromise everything he stood for.
“Oh?” Sephiroth said, looking at him expectantly.
“How about we start with you taking your sword out of my chest?”
“You can speak around it, clearly. You know what I want to hear.”
Cloud grit his teeth but said, “Fine. We can still do this.”
Then he grabbed Sephiroth by the hair and pulled him in for a kiss.
Sephiroth paused for a long moment, before humming and returning the kiss. It wasn’t what he was looking for, no, but it was a step in the right direction. He slid his hand up to cup Cloud’s cheek, but left one in place, a clear threat.
Cloud ignored it. If Sephiroth wanted to kill him again, he wasn’t going to be able to stop him. He’d rather focus on the kissing.
It wasn’t something Cloud necessarily wanted—or rather, it wasn’t something he would admit to wanting. But he was in a strictly difficult place, with few options left. He didn’t want to admit wanting Sephiroth physically, but he could stomach that idea better than admitting to loving him. That, he wasn’t even willing to admit to himself.
So he told himself that it was a universally accepted fact that Sephiroth was attractive. Pretty much everyone at Shinra had admitted to wanting to sleep with him. It wasn’t a hard sentiment to find echoed in the public, either. He could admit that Sephiroth was physically attractive, and that’s all this was. Physical. He’d allow Sephiroth to read whatever he needed into it so he would let him go, and that was it. If he got in a few touches of his own before he found a chance to escape, well, it wouldn’t hurt anyone. He was pretty sure even Tifa, who was easily the person he knew who hated Sephiroth the most, would admit the man was attractive. He could stomach a few kisses, until Sephiroth’s attention wandered enough to let his hand off his throat. Then it would just be one good kick to the stomach, yank the sword out, and he’d be free.
But Sephiroth didn’t move the hand from his throat.
His kiss was almost soft at first, but grew firmer, deeper as they went. When a tongue swiped his bloodstained bottom lip, Cloud allowed Sephiroth in. Their kiss was copper-tinged, but heady in a way that had nothing to do with taste. Sephiroth claimed every inch of his mouth, things growing more heated as they went. The man stepped close, would have lined up their bodies point for point if the sword wasn’t in the way. Instead, he slotted a thigh between Cloud’s and pressed just right that Cloud gasped into his mouth.
Sephiroth’s free hand slid down Cloud’s body to his hip, pulling him forward on his thigh so their hips were pressed as together as they would go. Cloud knew that, in spite of himself, he was filling out in his pants, and he was pressed right against Sephiroth’s hip, where he would definitely notice. But he couldn’t feel overly self-conscious about it, because Sephiroth was already hard against his hip. Guiding him with a hand at his waistband, Sephiroth rolled their hips together, and this time Cloud let out the softest of moans.
“Good boy,” Sephiroth praised, trailing his lips down Cloud’s jaw. He used his fingertips to tip his head back and allow him room to mouth at the skin of Cloud’s throat not covered by his fingers.
Cloud’s eyes ended up closed at some point (how had that happened?) as he focused on breathing as calmly and quietly as he could despite Sephiroth’s attentions. It was the reason why he felt more than saw the way Masamune disappeared from his chest, but the instant it did, Sephiroth snatched his hands and pinned them above his head before returning one hand back to his throat. Before he could even blink, he was as trapped, if not more, than he had been with the sword next to his heart.
Sephiroth didn’t give him much time to think about it, crowding close instead, caging Cloud with his body. He continued to grind them together, building friction between their hips that tore a groan out of Cloud.
He knew what Sephiroth was doing. The man wasn’t stupid. He was aware that a kiss wasn’t an admission of love, even if it was a starting point. He was willing to work with Cloud. He was going to get Cloud so worked up that he forgot his own protests and gave in to what Sephiroth wanted.
And damn it, if it wasn’t working.
Sephiroth trailed his hand down from his throat, content that he had Cloud pinned with his body and hold around his wrists. He slipped his fingers lower until he could take his shirt’s zipper in his grasp and undo the top. He ran his hands over Cloud’s chest possessively, feeling the lines of him, until it came to rest over his heart. He could feel it racing beneath his palm. Angling his hand just right, he ran his thumb over the already-healing wound Masamune had left, peeling it open a little wider. Cloud hissed, baring his teeth as he finally opened his eyes and looked at Sephiroth, who was smiling almost sweetly at him.
“Will you admit the truth yet?”
“I don’t love you.”
“You won’t say it yet, but you will admit to wanting me, is that it?”
Cloud flashed a few more teeth.
Sephiroth chuckled lowly, pressing his thumb further inside until Cloud breathed a curse.
“I’ll reward you, if you say it,” Sephiroth promised in a purr. “But until then…”
He continued burrowing his thumb deeper into the wound.
Cloud’s upper lip twitched up in a snarl. He knew Sephiroth was good for his word. He’d jam his whole hand into the gash to make a point if that was what it took.
“Fine. Yes. I want you.”
“Was that so hard?” Sephiroth crooned, dipping his head to brush their lips together.
“Fuck you,” Cloud breathed against his mouth.
“Mm, the reverse, perhaps.”
Sephiroth turned his hand and slid it lower, his thumb leaving one long red streak down Cloud’s chest. He cupped him through his pants and Cloud couldn’t help the way his hips twitched up into the contact, earning a soft laugh.
“Your body says what your mouth will not.”
“It says that I want you, and I’ve admitted that much.”
“I’m not sure, it seems to be saying quite a bit more to me.”
Before Cloud could think of anything smart (or not so smart, in this situation) to say, Sephiroth freed him from his pants, shoving them down below his hips, and began stroking him slowly. His grip was loose, teasing, and Cloud cursed again, letting his head fall back. If he just focused on the physical, he could handle this. Just respond until Sephiroth was distracted enough to loosen his grip on his wrists, and then he could be free. He just had to last a little longer.
But if he was going to do this, he might as well get something out of it in the meantime. And a little enthusiasm would go a long way in distracting Sephiroth. So he lifted a leg and wrapped it around Sephiroth’s hips, using the leverage it gave him to thrust up into Sephiroth’s hand. Sephiroth laughed, the sound low and mocking, but allowed it. He even quickened his pace a little, but left his hold tantalizingly light.
“Just—come on, you bastard,” Cloud hissed, pressing his hips up again.
“Whatever do you mean, Cloud?”
“Are you going to give it to me, or not?”
“Give you what?”
“A chance to get off, to start.”
“In that case, no. Not yet. I have better plans.”
Cloud looked up at him, his eyes searching.
He sighed heavily. Go along with it. Get him to lower his defenses. He could escape if he was patient.
He understood that he was walking a fine line. That was his plan, yes. But he also knew Sephiroth’s was to wind him up until he was so desperate for release that he stayed even once an opportunity to escape arose. It was just a question of who would succeed, at this point.
“Well, if you’re going to fuck me, get on with it,” Cloud snapped.
“Why the rush, Cloud? Do you have somewhere to be?”
If Cloud wasn’t sure Sephiroth knew what he was up to, he certainly was now. It was written all over his smug expression when Cloud chanced looking up at him. He turned his face away immediately, but then Sephiroth tightened his hand for one stroke, tearing a gasp out of Cloud. After so much teasing, it was exactly what he wanted. Unfortunately, he fell right back into the feather-light touches.
Cloud tightened the leg he had around Sephiroth’s hips, trying to get a better angle, but Sephiroth was determined to tease. He was going to give Cloud absolutely nothing he wanted, just build things until they reached a breaking point. He watched hungrily, now trailing his fingers up and down Cloud’s length, occasionally swiping his thumb through the slit. Cloud’s whole body jerked every time he did.
“Just—godsdamn—please hurry up,” Cloud hissed, and it was clear from his expression exactly how much he didn’t want to give even that much.
Sephiroth favored him with a low laugh and a slow kiss.
“That’s still not what I want to hear, but better,” Sephiroth said, slowly circling Cloud’s head with his thumb. “I wonder, if I reduce you to truly begging, will you forget about trying to run away?”
Cloud wanted to curse, but he was too distracted, his head falling back against the side of the Tower. If Sephiroth was confident enough to bring up the elephant in the room, Cloud should be worried. He should be worried because Sephiroth was getting his way.
Cloud could feel the need building rapidly. He was still pinned to the wall, still helpless, but Sephiroth knew exactly how to touch him to make him desperate. It made him wonder about the haziness of his memories of Shinra. He knew he and Sephiroth had been friends, but had there been more? There were so many gaps, so many empty spaces he just couldn’t fill. He would think that’d be the kind of thing he would remember, sleeping with Sephiroth or, gods forbid, dating the man, but he couldn’t rule it out. That, in itself, was wildly frustrating. He wanted to write it off, but the way Sephiroth handled him spoke of long experience. Maybe it was during those gaps in his memory of Shinra, maybe it was in the gaps in his memory during the year he chased Sephiroth. There was ample opportunity, and Sephiroth had never been the kind of man to refuse an opportune moment that suited his interests.
His chest was heaving. His mouth was dry from panting. He was fighting to keep the noises of pleasure behind his teeth but he was failing. With just one hand, Sephiroth was taking him apart at the seams. His fingers found every sensitive spot, his mouth working a collar of bruises onto the tender skin of his throat, and damn it all, Cloud tilted his head back to let him. It all felt too good. He knew what his plan had been, but it was crumbling in his fingers. He had forgotten that Sephiroth’s self-control was iron, that there had been little chance he’d slip before he reduced Cloud to an absolute mess. And that was exactly what he was nearing.
It wasn’t long before Cloud purposefully smacked his own head back against the Tower in frustration with his own self.
“Fine, fine—please, Sephiroth.”
Sephiroth hummed in interest, swiping his finger slowly through Cloud’s slit so his whole body shuddered.
“Please what?”
“Please fuck me.”
“I’m not sure you sound quite desperate enough. I wouldn’t want you trying to run off on me.”
“Godsdamn—please, Sephiroth.”
“Mm, I’m not sure.”
“You bastard, what do I have to say to get you inside me?”
“A confession of love would go a long way.”
“I am nowhere near far gone enough to even consider that.”
“So you will consider it eventually, then.”
Cloud cursed his slip. He didn’t really think he’d consider it, just, well. He certainly wasn’t about to say something ridiculous like that at the moment.
He used the leg he had around Sephiroth’s hips as leverage to thrust himself against the man’s palm, sighing in relief.
“I don’t know how else to ask you, Sephiroth. Please. I need you to fuck me, I need to feel you inside me.”
“You need me?”
“I need you.”
He refused to make eye contact as he said it.
Sephiroth pulled his hand away, making Cloud frown in disappointment, but began fishing in Cloud’s pockets. Eventually, he found an ether, and withdrew it. He uncorked it with his teeth and, in an impressive show of dexterity, poured some on his fingers with just one hand before recorking it with his teeth and putting it back in the pocket for safe keeping.
He reached behind Cloud’s hitched leg to circle one slick finger at his entrance.
“Is this what you want?”
“Will you stop teasing and get on with it?”
Sephiroth gave a soft laugh before pressing two fingers inside.
It was enough to sting but it was exactly what Cloud needed. He let out a low moan, pressing back onto the fingers inside him. There were a few shallow thrusts before Sephiroth’s hand went still.
When Cloud looked up at him in confusion, he said, “Well, go on, then. Fuck yourself on my hand if you’re so desperate.”
Cloud could hear the underlying demand to do this and prove he was desperate enough to stay.
He let his head fall forward onto Sephiroth’s shoulder with a curse, but did as he was told. He moved slowly at first, pressing himself backward, the fingers sliding in and out of him inexorably. But his pace quickened as he went, needing more. He was so worked up, now, that damn it, if he had to put on a show to get some relief, he’d do it.
In between thrusts, Sephiroth lined up a third finger, and suddenly Cloud was fuller than he had been before he pressed back again. He paused, moaning at the intrusion, his head tossing back. He could feel himself tighten around the fingers as he took the moment to try and catch his breath.
“Did I tell you to stop?”
It was on the tip of Cloud’s tongue to tell Sephiroth to go fuck himself, but it seemed counter-productive. So instead, he did as he was told, and began moving again.
Sephiroth watched the whole time with hungry eyes. His hand around Cloud’s wrists never moved, still holding him in place with a bruising grip. There was something possessive in his eyes as he stared down at Cloud, a burning need to own, but something strange as well. A curious sort of softness that Cloud was too distracted to notice. It was fond, but not in the patronizing way it usually was. It was strangely sincere, considering the man whose expression it was on.
Eventually, when he was satisfied, Sephiroth dropped his hand from Cloud’s wrists to take a hold of his hips, stilling him.
Cloud looked up at him with glazed eyes, too desperately turned on to realize what had happened, the way he was now free. His only interest was trying to figure out why Sephiroth had stopped him from chasing relief.
Sephiroth reached between them to unzip his pants and free his own length. He reached for the ether again and slicked himself before reaching down and grabbing two handfuls of Cloud’s ass. He lifted the blond, spreading him with his fingers as he did. Cloud wrapped both his legs around Sephiroth’s hips and his arms around his shoulders, all but clinging to the man (he told himself it was for balance). Sephiroth lined them up and eased Cloud slowly onto his cock until he was entirely seated inside him.
Sephiroth did not pause to let him adjust, but moved slowly. Cloud thought, at first, that it was to give him a chance to get used to the size of him. But he continued at a low pace, half lifting Cloud with his arms and half thrusting up into him. Cloud found he loved the way Sephiroth was able to move him bodily, not used to being around people as enhanced as he was. He loved not being the strongest person in the room for once, in this context, at least. But he didn’t have much time to think on it.
Something strange was going on. Sephiroth was finally fucking him, that was true, but he wasn’t quite fucking him. He expected things to be rougher. True, Cloud was still caged against the side of the ruined Tower, Sephiroth’s chest pressed to his. But the way they were moving was almost… soft. Sephiroth raised a hand from his hips to touch Cloud’s face, and that decidedly was soft, his fingers just grazing the skin there.
He had a still-slightly-open wound in his chest from this man. He’d killed him three times in a row just to prove a point. He was jealous, and possessive, and had a burning need to own Cloud that just would not be sated. There was no reason for soft touches, for gentleness, except that was exactly what he was doing.
It made everything confusing.
This wasn’t the Sephiroth he chased around the world. This was a Sephiroth he had known, once. One who was socially awkward and had shy smiles. One who hid behind the fall of his hair when he was unsure. One who had to be convinced he was actually wanted for anything more than his skill and leadership. A thousand old scenes from Shinra flashed before Cloud’s eyes, some familiar, some long forgotten. Nights spent, just the three of them; him, Sephiroth, and Zack. Private jokes. Soft smiles. Laughter.
Cloud’s chest felt tight in a way it hadn’t since before Nibelheim. He could recognize it, now, with the accompaniment of those memories. It was a feeling distinctly tied to Sephiroth. Like his heart was racing, like he couldn’t get enough breath.
Gaia damn it all, he did love Sephiroth.
He always had. Since he was a boy, and didn’t know what that really meant, and it was mostly just hero worship. Until he knew the man behind the title and it grew, it deepened, into something meant only for Sephiroth himself. Until it grew rotten at its core, soured by Nibelheim and the thousand misuses that had come after. The way he had been wrapped so tight around Sephiroth’s finger, not only by the call of their shared cells, but by the feelings he could never quite bury. The ecstasy of giving over the Black Materia had come from dozens of things, but not least was getting to be so close to his loved one again, the chance to give him something he wanted dearly. He wanted to give to Sephiroth, not out of some twisted, puppet-string desire to serve, but because he loved him desperately.
And it sickened him.
This was the man that burned Nibelheim. Killed his mother. Was ultimately responsible for Zack’s death. Killed Aeris. Meteor. Geostigma. All of it. And through it all, despite it all, Cloud’s stupid heart couldn’t see common sense. That the man he loved was gone, twisted beyond recognition, into a monster no one should be able to love.
But he did, and he didn’t think he would ever stop. If everything that happened couldn’t break him of this, nothing would. He would die, for good, with his heart still in Sephiroth’s hands. There was nothing to be done about it. It was inevitable, now.
Cloud’s fingers tightened in his leather jacket and he bowed his head, pressing his face into Sephiroth’s shoulder. He let out a high keen that had nothing to do with the way Sephiroth was moving inside him.
Sephiroth threaded his fingers into Cloud’s hair, pressing his face closer.
“That’s it, Cloud, very good,” Sephiroth purred, still grinding his way slowly in and out of him. When Cloud gave a choked sob, he said, “You know now, don’t you? It was one thing for me to say it, and another for you to accept it. Will you finally say it for me?”
Cloud’s fingers turned to claws in the leather.
“I—I can’t believe I—love you,” he struggled out. “Gaia damn it all to hell, why you?”
“It’s always been me. It will always be me. Until we finally manage to drag each other under into the dark.”
“I don’t want that. I don’t want this. I don’t want to love you, you’re—there are no words, for how much I hate you.”
“You can hate me all you’d like, Cloud. As long as you continue to love me so desperately.”
Cloud pulled a hand away to thump one fist weakly against Sephiroth’s chest.
“I—ah!”
Sephiroth thrust harder into him. He finally picked up his pace, moving with a little less sweetness. Cloud couldn’t help but throw his head back when Sephiroth finally hit the spot inside him that made him see stars, and then kept that angle, pressing into him relentlessly. He reached between them and began stroking Cloud at the same pace he thrust into him.
“You are mine, Cloud Strife, in every way that matters. Your hate is mine. Your love is mine. All your thoughts and desires, they all circle around me, and they always will. There is no part of you I haven’t staked a claim on.”
Cloud let a litany of curses fall from his lips, in part because it felt too good to remain silent, in part because Sephiroth was right. Sephiroth consumed him in a way that made him want to crawl out of his own skin with shame, but he had no idea how to put an end to it.
“I’m going to—kill you,” Cloud tried to say, but ended up moaning.
“One of us will kill the other, that is certain. But it will end nothing. I will always be right here,” Sephiroth said, spreading his hand over Cloud’s heart, “where you can’t be rid of me.”
“Gaia, I hate you.”
“I love you too, Cloud.”
Cloud opened his mouth to say something, but Sephiroth captured it in a kiss, beginning to stroke Cloud faster. He had what he wanted, now; he got his confession. His point was made. Now he was going to wring an orgasm out of Cloud to make sure the point stuck.
He fucked into him harder, stroked him faster, pressed every sensitive spot he knew, and it wasn’t long before Cloud was coming into his hand and over his own chest. Sephiroth pulled away and waited until Cloud looked up at him to lick his hand clean with infinite thoroughness. Cloud watched, almost entranced, until Sephiroth gave one particularly hard thrust into him. Now over-sensitive, Cloud grabbed Sephiroth’s shoulders, and the man smiled down at him. He began chasing his own orgasm, now, certain he had been clear enough that Cloud would not forget who he belonged to.
“Finish, godsdamn you,” Cloud hissed. “Finish so I can kill you.”
Sephiroth laughed lowly, the sound rough and ragged at the edges with his own nearness to orgasm.
“You truly know how to make me want you even more.”
“I wasn’t—that wasn’t—you’re sick.”
“Then you are too, for loving me.”
As if Cloud didn’t already know that.
There was one rough, deep, final thrust before Sephiroth stilled, his eyes closing as he groaned quietly, filling Cloud. When he pulled out, white began to drip down Cloud’s thighs. In a hurry, Cloud began pulling his pants back up and righting them, ignoring the mess between his thighs. Sephiroth took one deliberate step back, putting his own self to rights. Before Cloud had himself put together, he extended his wing.
“Wait—no, godsdammit, don’t you dare—”
“Until next time, Cloud.”
“Sephiroth! Don’t even think about—Sephiroth!”
It didn’t matter what he said, or what he might have tried to say next. Before his zipper was even up, much less before he could reach his sword, Sephiroth was flying away. Cloud could only watch, helpless, as he flew outside the reach Cloud had even when he jumped. He slumped back against the wall, sliding down to his ass. He could feel his pants sticking to his thighs, and felt shame and humiliation well up in him.
He buried his face in his hands.
How could he love that monster?
What was more, how could he ever get himself to stop?