Work Text:
Sephiroth had always considered himself a target-driven person.
When he discovered his true heritage, he had renounced his humanity immediately, burning all bridges behind him until nothing remained but ashes. When he decided to ascend to godhood, he had devised a plan to draw a meteor down from the skies, with no regard for the planet that had once nurtured him. When he needed to maintain his sense of self in death, he had thrown his memories into the churning currents of the Lifestream, discarding them as if they were nothing of import.
Everything, including Mother, was just a means to an end.
Everything, except Cloud.
Perhaps he had been dispensable, once. Cloud used to be a mere pawn in the grand scheme of things. Admittedly, he was marginally more useful than the other mindless clones, but that was about it. When Cloud fulfilled his purpose of bringing him the Black Materia, Sephiroth had no qualms about disposing of him. A god had no need for a broken tool that had outlived its usefulness.
That changed the moment this mere pawn run the Buster Sword right through his torso, not for the first time, but the second.
He had stared into blazing blue when it happened. The image of a deadly, vengeful angel branded itself at the back of Sephiroth’s eyes. The pain that followed soon after was inconsequential in the face of such resplendence.
Again, he met his demise, at the hands of one Cloud Strife.
Cloud.
His core of existence. His tether to reality. His nexus.
I am your everything. He had told Cloud during his first death, lingering around the edges of the latter’s consciousness.
The irony was not lost on him. He had been foolish then, not realising the extent of Cloud’s significance to him. Cloud was a singular existence, irreplaceable, unreplicable.
He was everything.
The stinging pain on his back brought him back to the present. He looked down, and was greeted by a glorious sight.
Cloud was spread out on the bed, his entire body flushed a lovely pink as he endured Sephiroth’s endless assault. One hand clenched onto the crumpled sheets beneath him, knuckles turning white; the other anchored itself to Sephiroth’s back, breaking skin and drawing blood. A sheen of sweat was forming on the skin of his naked form, the warm light from the bedroom lamp giving his body a subtle glow.
At this very instance, pinned beneath him, Cloud was not the revered hero of the planet, but a sacrifice, an offering befitting a god.
Exactly where Sephiroth wanted Cloud to be.
The pace he had established had been languorous so far, his movement unhurried as he rocked his body against Cloud’s repeatedly. Behind this effortless front, however, belied the absolute want sitting in his lower abdomen, crawling towards his back and up his spine, telling him to take and ravage to his heart’s content.
The voice was loud and beguiling, but he was a man of control. It was not the time; there was still more to savour.
Though, it would not hurt to escalate things a little further.
Seated comfortably inside Cloud, Sephiroth paused and slowly wrapped his hands around Cloud’s calves. This gave Cloud a moment of respite, which—judging from his grimace—he definitely did not appreciate. Sephiroth chuckled at the frown.
“How impatient.” Then, without waiting for a response, Sephiroth pushed Cloud’s legs up and forward, then rested them on his shoulders as he pressed closer, sinking his cock deeper into his nemesis. Cloud’s eyes widened as his hips were lifted entirely off the mattress, his body almost folded in half. Struggling to find purchase, the only pivots being Sephiroth’s broad shoulders and the length impaling him, his hands flew towards the headboard in an attempt to steady himself.
The way Cloud was trying and failing to maintain his composure was quite endearing.
It remained a mystery as to how they had reached this point. It might have involved one’s conveniently timed resurrection from the Lifestream, and the other’s unexplained reluctance to fight this particular instance. To Sephiroth, such details were insignificant. What mattered was that both of them were here, in their rightful places.
Cloud. Cloud. Cloud.
The one who defied him; the one who thrice killed him.
Overcome with a sudden urge to hear the voice of his murderer, Sephiroth leant down and brushed his lips against Cloud’s pierced earlobe, tracing the contours of the wolf earring with his tongue languidly. Despite Sephiroth’s persistence, Cloud did not make a sound save for a hitch in his breath. Even now, his stubborn puppet would deny him of his satisfaction, but he would accept this as a temporary concession.
The night was long, and he still had ample opportunity to break that resolve. He had no desire to end their tryst any time soon. The longer he drew this out, the sweeter his reward would be when he finally reaped it.
Regardless, it would not be an easy task to coax a moan out of Cloud, let alone a scream, but Sephiroth loved a challenge, more so when it concerned Cloud.
“You will scream,” he whispered, his breath fanning the shell of Cloud’s ear. It was a promise, one that he intended to follow through.
He pushed forward in one merciless thrust, punching another soundless breath out of Cloud. Remaining sheathed deep inside the warmth, he pulled away just enough to peer at Cloud’s face. What expression would Cloud be making at his threat? Embarrassed? Mortified?
It was neither, of course. Those pools of blue glared at him, unfailingly defiant. The ever-present anger was reduced to a simmer for the nonce, as if Cloud was keeping it in check, the perpetual hatred overshadowed by the climbing heat between their bodies.
Even as those eyes glazed over with desire, Sephiroth could see the sharp glint peeking through the haze, sending him a clear message.
I’d like to see you try.
Sephiroth could feel a smirk creeping up his face. Cloud’s reaction was wholly unsurprising. He had never truly been docile, pushing back at his master whenever he had the chance.
All the better.
Cloud’s wilfulness only added fuel to the idea of crushing that rebellious ember, making it increasingly difficult to reign in the devastating need to get closer, even closer than being within the other. So close that their cells would meld, molecules would fuse, the distance between them no longer a concept. It was not scientifically feasible, but with enough determination, he wondered perchance…
Sephiroth sucked in a sharp breath—an alien concept since he did not require oxygen—and straightened himself. It was unlike his usual disciplined self, letting his thoughts run rampant like that. He turned his focus back to the face of his foe, eager to catch every micro-expression resulting from his efforts.
A few strands of golden hair had fallen in front of Cloud’s eyes, preventing Sephiroth from reading them. Without a change in the steady tempo he had set, Sephiroth raised a hand and brushed the unruly hair to the side with uncharacteristic tenderness, letting out a contented sigh when those ocean blues looked back at him dazedly. The fleeting clarity earlier had already left them, leaving behind only lust and residual defiance.
Cloud seemed vulnerable like this, his small frame giving off a deceptive air of helplessness, but Sephiroth was under no illusion that he was as breakable as some might assume—Cloud had defeated him, after all. On the contrary, Cloud was one of the few mortals who could withstand him.
One of the remaining few, that is.
…hmm.
That was another peculiar thought. The source of it was untraceable, as if it was born of something that had been deliberately wiped from existence, leaving a gaping void in its stead. It was of little concern, though.
Where was he again? Ah. The juxtaposition of power and fragility in Cloud. It was intriguing, observing the enigmatic dichotomy of bravery and fearfulness; the paradoxical co-existence of perfection and imperfection.
The longer he dwelt on these thoughts, the more they made his blood boil with indescribable need. Perhaps now was a good time to move things forward.
The hand caressing Cloud’s face strayed downwards, dragging along the curves of his form without breaking contact. Sephiroth knew that his limbs were always cold to the touch, and Cloud’s skin burnt against his. His icy fingertips picked up the miniscule tremors as they trailed down, the flush skin vibrating like strings under the delicate touch of a violinist.
The wandering hand finally found its destination, settling at Cloud’s waist, parallelling the other hand. Then, Sephiroth pulled.
“Wait—”
The headboard creaked precariously at Cloud’s tightened grip. With effortless grace, Sephiroth lifted the trembling hips and pressed the buttocks firmly onto his lap. The new position allowed Sephiroth’s cock to reach a new depth inside his enemy, the reflexive clench from Cloud making it all the more gratifying, though Sephiroth was far from appeased. He did not give Cloud any time to recover from the breach, and resumed his metrical pounding with renewed vigour.
He assumed Cloud would voice some form of objection, or at the very least give him a scowl, the kind Sephiroth often received whenever he did anything Cloud deemed outrageous. To his mild surprise, Cloud only panted and struggled weakly in lieu of his usual fiery response. A faint crack appeared on the piece of wood under Cloud’s death grip, but the man was apparently too preoccupied with holding himself together to care.
It should not be long. Cloud would inevitably break. The impulse to break him right then and there was getting more and more unbearable by the second, but Sephiroth would be patient. He had to.
Adjusting his hold on Cloud’s hips, Sephiroth shifted his position to gain better leverage, pulling himself up before descending on Cloud again, letting his weight do most of the work and buried himself to the hilt. The wet squelch as he plunged fully into the welcoming warmth made his cock twinge, the tightness around it made him want to forego all sensibility.
He must have hit a particularly sensitive spot at some point, for Cloud suddenly bucked his hips forward, arching his back at a beautiful angle and putting his vulnerable throat on full display. Sephiroth could feel a phantom itch in his canines, urging him to bite into his enemy’s exposed neck, to sink his teeth into the soft flesh, to feel the pulse as warm blood spilt freely into his mouth…
…maybe another time.
Sephiroth gave the bobbing Adam’s apple a harmless mock bite, and swiftly diverted his attack elsewhere. His lips soon found the right clavicle and latched onto it, sucking at the end connecting the sternum until the skin was raw and tender. The strained rasps and wheezes he received from Cloud were pure music.
Sephiroth then bit down on the collarbone, hard.
A startled yelp cut through the air. There it was, the first involuntary sound he had wrung out of Cloud this night.
Even though Cloud quickly caught himself, Sephiroth could hardly suppress the shiver that took hold of his entire body. He wanted to attribute it to the sense of victory, but it felt more primal and crude than that. Beads of blood oozed from the broken skin, allowing Sephiroth to lap them up like sweet morning dew.
The urge returned, accompanied by the voice telling him take what you’re owed, he belongs to you. It took a ridiculous amount of restraint not to break the fragile bone into pieces with his teeth, tempting as it was. Cloud could recover from such superficial injuries much quicker than a regular human, seeing that the blood flow from the small wounds was already slowing, but Sephiroth was not inclined to damage Cloud more than necessary.
He was not in the mood for inflicting excessive pain today. A careful blend of pain and pleasure, however, was another story. Cloud had already cried out once; there would be many more to come.
Licking at the last drops of blood from the healed bite, Sephiroth released the abused collarbone and withdrew slightly to admire his work. Cloud was slowly unravelling, his face red with exertion, his body littered with marks. Clear fluid leaked from the tip of his erection as it lied on his stomach, seeking attention.
“Look at you,” Sephiroth said with unadulterated marvel. “A stunning image of bliss and suffering.”
For whatever reason, Cloud did not respond much to Sephiroth’s earlier provocations. This, on the other hand, earned him a scathing look.
“Ugh, stop waxing poetic and get on with—”
Anything he was about to say was abruptly cut off by a choke. A cold hand had reached for his cock and given it a hard stroke from the base to the tip, rendering him speechless. Sephiroth slowly rubbed the slit with his thumb, smearing the leaking liquid over the surface, allowing him to slide his hand up and down with ease. He did not let up on the ongoing assault either, stroking and thrusting in tandem.
It seemed that Cloud was successful in stifling his moan this time, even as his thigh spasmed under the intensity. Shame, Sephiroth had hoped to catch him unaware, but he might have underestimated Cloud’s dogged stubbornness.
“You…bastard!”
“Oh? I thought you wanted me to get on with it?”
Cloud did not deign to answer him, instead turning his head as far as he could to the side, half of his face pressed onto the sheets and hidden from the other’s view. Sephiroth scoffed and grabbed Cloud by the chin, forcing him to face forward. But Cloud, obstinate as ever, squeezed his eyes shut in retaliation.
Very well, he would give Cloud a little push then.
Sephiroth leaned forward again and loomed over Cloud, caging him with webs of silver hair. His foe was rather small like this; if his waist were any slimmer, Sephiroth’s hands could probably encircle it if he chose to wrap them around it.
He briefly entertained the idea of tightening the hand holding Cloud’s hip, leaving bruises that would remain for days even with Cloud’s accelerated healing. The yellow and purple marks dotting his side would be most enjoyable to look at.
Patience.
Ignoring the compulsion, Sephiroth prompted, “Don’t you see, Cloud?”
He waited for a few seconds, but Cloud did not acknowledge him, opting to gasp silently under the onslaught. Both amused and mildly irritated, Sephiroth huffed in disapproval, and brought his movements to a halt.
Cloud opened his eyes at the abrupt stillness, brows furrowed in slight confusion. When nothing else happened, he tried to tilt his pelvis upwards, possibly a desperate attempt for more friction, but Sephiroth forced his hips down with both hands in a vice-like grip. Denied of his pleasure, Cloud kicked Sephiroth hard on the shoulder and shot him a baleful look—a wordless demand for him to move—but Sephiroth did not budge.
Before long, Cloud seemed to realise his silence would not get him anywhere. He let out a long, shaky breath, as if steeling himself.
“…see what, exactly?”
Hmm, the response was clipped. He supposed it was satisfactory.
Deciding to reward his puppet for his obedience, Sephiroth ground into Cloud with a measured roll of his hips. One hand found itself back on the neglected arousal and synced the strokes with every push, The resulting shudders that wracked Cloud’s body were delightful.
“Everything will eventually be lost to time, including this planet you love so much.”
“If you’re done with your…theatrics,” Cloud gritted out, an imperceptible tremor in his voice, “cut the crap and get to the point.”
Unruffled, Sephiroth tilted his head and asked, “Haven’t you noticed by now? How the passage of time does not affect you the slightest.”
Something flashed in Cloud’s eyes, gone before Sephiroth could discern much from them, but the reaction itself was telling enough.
“When the planet dies, the Lifestream goes with it as well,” Sephiroth continued. “The memories it contains, the souls it carries, all of them will be gone.”
Cloud looked away again. His restless eyes darted around without aim, landing on every spot in the room except Sephiroth. This time, Sephiroth was not about to let it slide.
“We, on the other hand, shall persevere. I won’t let death claim you. My cells in you ensure that. As for my case,” he whispered, lips ghosting the shell of Cloud’s ear, “I told you that I’d never be a memory, didn’t I?”
Sephiroth pulled out inch by inch, his movement torturously slow. In his firm grasp, Cloud could not do much but writhe helplessly.
“What’s…hah…your point?”
“My point is, Cloud,” Sephiroth paused again, and snapped his hips forward once more in one swift motion.
Then, he delivered the final verdict.
“Your memories of me give me form. The sole reason I’m able to return…is you.”
You will not die. And in your deathlessness, I will live.
Cloud was hailed as the Saviour of the Planet by many, but little did the ignorant public know he might as well be a Horseman of the Apocalypse, having doomed this world with Sephiroth’s continued existence.
And if Sephiroth did not succeed in ending the planet, time would.
His declaration must have affected Cloud to a certain extent, for Sephiroth saw the way Cloud’s pupils constricted ever so slightly, his mouth half opened as if he had something to say, but could not quite find the right words.
Just a small crack on the mask of feigned indifference. Sephiroth could work with that.
He did not waste a single moment, picking up the pace at once and pounding into Cloud in earnest, sliding his hand up and down the weeping cock at a ruthless speed. Cloud threw his head backwards, the motion sending specks of sweat into the air. The obscene sounds of skin slapping against skin only served to spur Sephiroth on as he plundered Cloud’s hole relentlessly, losing himself in the wondrous sensation.
“Nngh!”
There.
A broken cry reached Sephiroth’s ear, nearly sending him over the edge. It was a delectable noise, the only sounds that came close to rivalling it being the pained grunts Cloud made whenever Masamune penetrated his flesh. The line between agony and ecstasy was never this blurred, and Sephiroth had never felt so alive.
He continued to work towards the crescendo, pulling all the way out until the crown of his cock was close to slipping past the rim, before ramming his entire length back inside in one go. His mind, heavy and addled in the throes of pleasure, was hit with a curious thought.
Since Masamune was a manifestation of his cells, an ability blessed by Mother, he could theoretically extend his senses to his blade. He wondered if he could replicate this feeling during his next fight with Cloud. When his sword entered Cloud’s body, would he be able to feel the same maddening tightness and heat he was currently experiencing, surrounding him like a cocoon?
He would have to try it, should the two of them meet on the opposite sides of the battlefield once more. It was bound to happen again in due time, but not today.
“Hah…hah…hngh—ah!”
More beautiful, shattered sounds spilt forth from Cloud’s mouth; the dam holding them in had been torn down, allowing his sweet voice to flow free. His left hand suddenly grappled the forearm supporting his waist, the grip so strong that Sephiroth could feel a sharp pain in his radial bones. The walls around Sephiroth’s shaft contracted and fluttered, the rhythm erratic and urgent.
Cloud froze, his eyes rolling back as he reached his peak. The cock in Sephiroth’s hand trembled and pulsed as Cloud came, painting his release on both of their stomachs in violent spurts. It was not a long process, but Sephiroth savoured every single second of Cloud coming undone.
He paused and placed a hand on Cloud’s torso, splaying his fingers and smearing the fluids over Cloud’s chest. Drinking in the sight of the boneless body in front of him, Sephiroth smiled, and resumed to chase his own climax.
Completely drained after his orgasm, Cloud was in no condition to lift a single finger, let alone respond to Sephiroth’s pillage. He looked as if he had dissolved into a bundle of oversensitive nerves, unable to do much besides whimper and mewl weakly, shaking like a leaf each time Sephiroth thrusted in and out.
Greedily taking in the image of his helpless archenemy, the fire in his abdomen grew hotter, like a spring coiling and winding towards the breaking point, screaming for release.
But relief never came. It only got heavier, stronger, tighter, until it snapped, like a bowstring being pulled too taut.
An intense shudder seized his body, his entire vision filled with blinding white, his hearing masked by the sound of rushing blood. Unseeing and unhearing, his enhanced senses became so sharp that every touch bordered on hurting. The involuntary shivers of the body beneath him, the hotness of the passage he had deeply sunk into, the pressure clamping down on his cock as he emptied his seed inside the heat; all of them were intoxicating, down to the tiniest sensation.
Sephiroth closed his eyes for the first time of the night, turning his focus into himself, basking in the novel experience. It was a mystery why they had not done this sooner. Such transgression was remediated at long last.
It was…difficult to describe the state he was in. Ecstasy? No, it was too material, too fleeting. Rapture? Maybe, but even such a strong word paled in comparison to what he had just undergone.
Reunion.
Was it something as crude as pure instinct? Their cells calling out for one another merely due to their nature? Or was there something else at play?
…his mind had wandered again.
He rode out the last of his orgasm, relishing in the gentler waves of pleasure. Their consummation brought him joy and fulfilment; why should he require a reason for it? There was no need to conform to the moral standards of humans. If it was nature that made them seek each other, then so be it.
When he finally finished, he let down the trembling legs from his shoulders, and allowed his body to fall on top of Cloud, pinning him down. Cloud did not complain or struggle, only letting out a small “oof” when Sephiroth trapped him with his body. It reminded Sephiroth of the times Cloud was under his control, pliant and meek; yet the differences were just as obvious.
For one, he could no longer fully take over Cloud’s mind after the events in the Northern Crater, his influence able to induce mild hallucinations and headaches at best. But here they were, Sephiroth taking what he desired from Cloud, despite Sephiroth’s inability to puppeteer him.
Was this…something Cloud explicitly allowed?
He was not sure how he felt about this new realisation.
Should he be angry, seeing Cloud gain this newfound autonomy from him, his rightful master? Or perhaps frustrated at his personal failure in managing his puppet?
Sephiroth placed both of his hands next to Cloud’s head, and let his upper body up slightly. His eyes searched Cloud’s face, cataloguing his every feature. The eyebrows were thin, untrimmed, but they still had a clear, straight shape that turned upwards at a sharp angle. The eyelashes were not very long, but they were dark and lush, casting shadows that flickered on the lower lids as they fluttered. The irises that peeked from underneath the eyelashes were glowing, not as bright as they usually were in a fight, but they still shone in the dim room.
Moving on to the nose, it was straight, the edges surprisingly soft. The mouth, still ajar, had the same softness to it. The cheeks had a bit of roundness to them, and while the cheekbones were not very defined, they were delicate all the same. The chin was small and pointed, but the jawline was gentle.
All of it were indisputably Cloud.
Everything was just as Sephiroth had remembered. Then, what had changed?
…was it Sephiroth himself?
The body beneath him started to stir, pulling him out of his contemplation. He snapped his gaze back to Cloud’s eyes, and found that the dazed, glassy look had gone from them, replaced by a familiar intensity.
Under that scrutiny, Sephiroth sensed the heat returning, pooling in his groin.
Before he could do or say anything else, a force pushed him aside and flipped him around, his back landing on the bed. He instinctively raised his arms to grab onto something, to reorient himself. They were immediately slammed down and pinned on his sides.
An interesting development.
Sephiroth got his bearings back swiftly. To his amusement, Cloud had apparently turned the tables on him during the brief moment he had let his guard down, putting him on his back and straddling him. He tried to test against the restraints by rotating his forearms, only for the pressure holding them down to increase.
“My, Cloud. How forward.”
It was Cloud’s turn to loom over Sephiroth. Backlit by the bedroom lamp, his face was hidden in the shadows, but the semidarkness did nothing to prevent Sephiroth from seeing Cloud’s hardened glare and pursed lips, courtesy of his enhancements and Mother’s blessings.
It was odd, to be put in such a disadvantageous position and not to be bothered by it. Rather, the notion sent a jolt of electricity through his body, making his cock harden with want.
Was this what Cloud felt when he was the one beneath Sephiroth? He could certainly see the appeal.
“You…melodramatic piece of…” Cloud started, and stopped before finishing his sentence, his lower lips quivering.
“You think that’s supposed to be some grand, enlightening speech? Jokes on you, I know.”
Fury radiated off Cloud in powerful ripples. It took Sephiroth a second to realise what Cloud was referring to.
Come to think of it, when Sephiroth announced the inexorability of their existence, Cloud did not seem all that surprised. His reaction was subtler than Sephiroth had expected, a muted display of vulnerability, barely enough for Sephiroth to slip between the cracks.
So he knew. Sephiroth had simply forced him to face this fact.
“Isn’t it the same for you?” Cloud continued, his voice tight. “You’re stuck with me, the way I’m stuck with you.”
“You’re right,” Sephiroth replied mildly. “I have never said otherwise.”
Cloud seemed somewhat confused at his easy admission, which was perplexing on its own. He had made himself unequivocally clear, had he not?
Without Cloud, Sephiroth would be a shell of himself; a false god; half of what he was now, which was something he had not realised before he fell for the second time. Despite his pride, he was not above admitting to his faults and misconceptions. Improvement could only be made upon reflection.
“Then, shouldn’t it be a shameful thing for a self-proclaimed god to tie himself to some random person?” Cloud questioned, uncomprehending.
An absurd line of thought. Whyever would his puppet even consider it that way?
“Don’t be mistaken, Cloud. There is nothing random in this. Circumstances might have brought us together, but I don’t believe in chances.”
“But—”
“Once, I could perhaps ascribe it to luck.” Sephiroth interrupted. “But twice, or even thrice?”
Cloud stayed silent.
“You didn’t kill me three times because of chance, just like I didn’t tie myself to you because I thought a random person could sustain me by chance. I chose you, Cloud Strife, because I want you, and I need you.”
It was the one decision Sephiroth had made for himself, and by himself alone. Not even Mother had a say in this.
His proclamation earned him a visceral reaction, for Cloud pulled away abruptly, as if the statement had scorched him. His pupils dilated until they swallowed most of the blue, a wild look adorning his face.
Sephiroth did not move, his fingers twitching with the desire to pull Cloud back, to hold his nape and bring him close. On the other hand, he would like to take his time to enjoy the effect he had on Cloud, observing every small changes of emotions on his face. When one knew where to look, Cloud could be terribly expressive.
But Cloud decided to cut this time short by taking the reins himself, and pushed things forward.
“Take your high and mighty attitude and shove it.”
With that said, Cloud placed a hand on the bed to support his body as he worked himself open again, the fingers of the other hand shoving into himself roughly without regard. It must have been at least a little uncomfortable, if the way his face contorted and his thighs trembled was any indication. Sephiroth reached for the unsteady hips, ready to lend his support, but his hands were instantly swatted away.
“Hands to yourself.”
Sephiroth raised his hands in mock surrender. If Cloud would like to do this on his own, why would he deprive himself of enjoying a perfectly good show?
It did not take Cloud long to slip the fourth finger into himself. His hole must still be loosened enough after their earlier copulation. With rapt attention, Sephiroth watched the way the digits disappear into Cloud’s body and reappeared from it. He could already feel the tip of his erection leaking with precome simply by admiring the display.
“Such a good boy.” He could not resist commenting. “How nice of you to work yourself so hard for me. I’m flattered.”
It was not quite the truth, of course. Knowing Cloud, he was hardly doing this to please Sephiroth. Nevertheless, it was never boring to rile up his enemy.
Apart from a dirty look, Cloud did not rise to the bait, too focused on the task at hand. He extracted all four fingers after a few more thrusts, and moved his shaking hand to guide Sephiroth’s cock to his entrance.
Sephiroth almost bucked his hips upwards at the sensation of his crown nudging the rim. He opened his mouth to say something, but Cloud beat him to the punch.
“Stop giving me another one of your monologues. I’m not here to hear you talk.”
“Are you not? You’ve always been so receptive, though.”
He barely managed to regulate his breathing when Cloud sat down roughly, taking his cock to the base all at once. Cloud groaned as he let gravity pull him down, impaling himself completely on Sephiroth’s length.
“Shut. Up.”
Sephiroth huffed a laugh, but he obliged to the request, and waited in bated breath.
Slightly winded, Cloud took a couple of slow breaths, readjusting himself around the intrusion. The process was arduous; he was still tight, even after everything they had done before. After a few long beats, he eventually settled and started moving.
This time, it was Sephiroth who had to bite his lip to prevent himself from moaning.
Cloud lifted his hips until most of Sephiroth’s cock slid out of him, and then let himself fall back down, his buttocks hitting Sephiroth’s thighs with a loud slap. Not bothering to smother his voice any more, Cloud let out a loud whine, the sound sending another spark of electricity to Sephiroth’s aching erection. Then, he repeated the motion, and repeated it again, and again, and again.
It was taking Sephiroth every ounce of self-control not to thrust up. A tearing sound tore through the room. It took him a long while before realising that he had gripped the sheets too hard and ripped them. Still, he did not grab on to the moving hips above him, obediently keeping his arms to his sides. It was a challenge, and he intended to win.
If the picture of Cloud bouncing on his cock alone was not enough to make him come, then the overwhelming heat surrounding it every time Cloud sank down onto his length would surely push him to his climax soon.
Without a pause in his self-imposed impalement, Cloud adjusted his position slightly and looked down. Those azure eyes glistened with unshed tears, reflecting broken images of Sephiroth like shattered mirrors. They were the perfect canvas for a masterpiece, and Sephiroth was the painter and the subject.
“I hate you,” Cloud spat, low and vicious.
The way his voice cracked towards the end filled Sephiroth’s heart with unbridled glee.
“But that’s not all, isn’t it?” Sephiroth murmured, breathless. “There is something else.”
Cloud merely responded with a strangled noise. He reached for his own cock and started pumping it forcefully. It looked as if he were punishing himself rather than pursuing pleasure. The expressions that flitted across his face were difficult to read. Was it bliss, self-contempt, or both and everything in between?
There was a haze in Sephiroth’s mind. Thinking…had never been so challenging.
Cloud spoke again. His voice seemed strangely distant.
“Hah…it doesn’t…it doesn’t matter if there’s anything else,” he answered Sephiroth’s earlier question. “I’ll never give in to you, no matter how many times you return, or whether—whether it’s because of me or not.”
He slowed down and bent forward, their noses almost touching. Sephiroth could smell metal and engine oil. He shivered in anticipation.
Then he caught the words, barely above a whisper. In this proximity, it sounded thunderous.
“I will be there to stop you, each and every time.”
Cloud. Cloud will be there. He will be there for me.
Every time.
A grunt made it past Sephiroth’s lips, the heat that had coalesced in his abdomen spread towards his chest, then to his whole body. No longer in control of his motor functions, his hands shot towards the squirming hips and grabbed them with bruising force, lifting them up and bringing them back down onto himself. Cloud gave a short yell of surprise, but did not stop him. He repeated the motion several times with increasing speed, the peak ever so close, yet so far.
Just as he started to think he would forever teeter on the edge and never get to the climax, it arrived to him without warning.
It was an explosive affair. The moment he came, all he could see was a jumbled mess of static. Everything sounded muffled, like he had been submerged underwater. His nerves were overloaded, the aftershocks of fire and electricity coursing through his veins, as if someone had simultaneously cast Firaga and Thundaga at him.
He must have released his grip on Cloud’s hips at some point, for he could sense Cloud rocking against him again. His raw, sensitive nerves screamed at him with Cloud’s every movement. It hurt, but the pain was addictive, and he could not help but chase after it.
“Nng…ahh!”
Cloud shrieked, all his previous restraints forgotten. The sound of his scream pounded on Sephiroth’s delicate eardrums and travelled through his bones, down to the hollow of his chest cavity. Sephiroth felt more than saw Cloud come, sensing the body above him tense up all of a sudden. Warm fluid splattered across his torso soon after, making all the way to his collarbone. His vision recovered just in time to see Cloud collapsed like a marionette with its strings cut, his upper body hitting Sephiroth’s with a dull thud.
After that, stillness.
Cloud should not be this heavy, yet Sephiroth found it impossible to move from his weight.
He listened to the sharp, laboured breaths that resonated in the room, and felt the fluttering pulse from the body closely pressed against his.
Utterly surreal.
When was the last time they were this close to each other without immediate bloodshed?
…a rather pointless question; there had not been a last time in the first place.
It should feel wrong, but he had never felt this right. With or without this, they would still orbit each other for an eternity; but with this, he was sure that nothing less than the heat death of the universe could part them.
Scattered thoughts melted into nothingness.
Thuh-thump.
Thuh-thump.
Thuh-thump.
Thuh-thump.
Thuh-thump.
“I…didn’t expect this turn of events.”
Thuh-thump.
Thuh-thump.
…thoughts returned.
Sephiroth blinked, and look down at the crown of the head lying on his chest, tucked below his chin.
Cloud sighed and rolled to the side, the softening cock inside him slipping out easily. One of his arm and leg remained draped over Sephiroth as he lied on his side, facing inwards. Sephiroth turned towards Cloud and moved a little closer, careful not to move the limbs resting on his body.
“Ugh, this is gross,” Cloud complained, but did not push him away.
All of this were so new.
This was out of his comfort zone.
As far as he remembered, there had been something rooted deep inside him for a long time, growing, festering ever since his mind splintered and reconstituted in Nibelheim, and yet he could not give it a proper name. He closed his eyes and reached into himself, hoping to seek familiarity from it, but it was nowhere to be found.
He waited for the panic to set in, but it did not come.
When he reopened his eyes, he saw Cloud looking at him, head tilted upwards. He stared back into the glowing blue, trying to memorise the intricate patterns of those irises, but Cloud fidgeted under the pressure and averted his gaze.
“Obsessive asshole,” Cloud muttered.
“Stubborn puppet,” Sephiroth responded automatically.
“Don’t call—ugh, why do I even bother…”
“The sooner you accept our connection as a fact, the easier it will be for you in the long run.”
There was a pregnant pause.
“You know I accept it, right?” Cloud said, sounding resigned. “It’s just…so much shit’s happened between us. I don’t think it’s possible to stop fighting you. Or stop hating you, for that matter.”
That was astonishingly candid coming from Cloud, who, in face of the truth, more often chose to run from it than confront it. Now, he seemed almost content, his breath steady, even though the wariness on his face was not completely gone.
An unfamiliar calmness, gentle in its touch, washed over Sephiroth as he glanced at the fluttering eyelashes of his enemy. He had not felt this serene for years, not since he broke his old shackles and embraced his true identity. The incessant hunger was sated by their union, and the white noise in his head was reduced to a small, pleasant hum.
He knew it would not last. The hunger would rear its ugly head again. But it was fine; Cloud was here, and he would sate it every time.
“Good, keep hating me,” Sephiroth finally decided to say in return. “I wouldn’t be myself without it.”
They are all mine. They make me whole. Your hate, your anger, your adoration, your—
“Masochist,” Cloud said.
The silence stretched on as they shared their breath. It was not peaceful per se—there could never be true peace between them—but it was grounding. Sephiroth could acutely feel the leg draped over his waist, its weight a reminder of the present.
“I’m still going to send you back to the Lifestream in the morning.” Even as Cloud said it, his eyes slowly drooped, the furrows of his brow smoothened, his head dipping down.
Sephiroth followed suit, and burrowed his nose in the soft, golden hair.
“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”