Chapter Text
Coming back to life is not as glamorous as one might think. It isn’t as simple as snapping your fingers and returning unchanged. It costs you. The amount of willpower and sacrifice required is truly extraordinary. Not many can do it. Sephiroth is the only one who has ever accomplished it. As the son of Jenova and the future ruler of the Planet, he has powers others can only dream of.
Yet even for him, it was never an easy feat.
Every return was harder than the one before, costing Sephiroth another little piece of his soul. Every time he came back, dragging his spirit back into the world of the living, parts of him remained in the Lifestream, forgotten and lost forever.
Recreating who he used to be, regaining all his powers and memories became harder and harder with each iteration, but the sacrifice was worth it for a chance to live again. For another opportunity to make Mother’s plans come to life.
Her powers keep weakening, though; Sephiroth can feel it. Her presence on this wretched rock has all but been extinguished, and it infuriates Sephiroth to no end. It makes him want to get revenge on her behalf. These puny humans should all perish for meddling in the affairs of the gods.
But the loss of her presence brings with it an even more pressing concern: escaping the Lifestream is not possible without her. It requires immense strength and mental fortitude, but those alone are not enough. Such an extraordinary amount of power needs a catalyst to drive it, to bring it to a focal point, where it will transform into a new form, a new being.
Jenova’s cells have always been that catalyst, making it possible for Sephiroth to return. Using the fuel of his own rage, combining it with the grief and anger from Cloud’s memories, and pouring it into the remaining cells on Gaia always brought him back to life.
But now that all of Mother’s body parts have been destroyed, and the Remnants eliminated, Sephiroth struggles to find a new catalyst. His connection to the world is weakened, and he can feel himself slipping away.
The only thing still tying him to the world of the living, the only remaining source of Jenova’s cells, is Cloud himself.
He is now more important than ever; Sephiroth's sole tether, holding his entire future in the palm of his hand.
With obsessive persistence, Sephiroth focuses his undivided attention on Cloud, trying to form a mind link between them.
When he senses himself in Cloud’s mind, surrounded by his swirling thoughts, Sephiroth presses further, willing his own spirit to return to Gaia by giving it purpose.
He pictures himself stalking Cloud, looming over his shoulder like a shadow, like an extension of his being. It sends him into a trance. Using nothing but meditation and ironclad resolve, Sephiroth manipulates his anger and weaves it, fusing it with the memories he still owns until, slowly, he starts to feel the presence of a body.
Abandoning his amorphous form, he forces his incorporeal being to manifest outside of the Lifestream.
He can feel his muscles stretch as new tissue forms, blood suddenly flowing through his veins. Skin burns while his bones are welded together. It is usually a long and arduous process, and the accompanying pain is excruciating. Reconstructing a body from scratch takes a lot of time and patience, but this time, it is over in minutes.
Instinctively, Sephiroth knows something must have gone awry.
His connection to Cloud must have been too weak, or perhaps the amount of Jenova’s cells was insufficient. Maybe they were not pure enough to serve as a catalyst.
For one dreadful moment, Sephiroth thinks he’s failed. He expects to be sent back to the Lifestream, where he will stay trapped forever.
But in a flash, the process completes, and he finds himself back on Gaia once more, reborn in the body he worked so hard to create.
A sense of accomplishment fills him. Mother, he thinks, I will reclaim what is ours!
He has precisely two seconds to gloat before he realizes something is terribly wrong.
The first telltale sign is that his face is too close to the ground. He’s practically kissing a dirty old road somewhere out in the middle of nowhere. So, he tries to get up. He reaches out to push himself up, but nothing happens. He remains on the ground.
Feeling frustrated, Sephiroth tries again, only to realize that his arms feel rather strange. There are tingles all over them, as if he fell asleep in an uncomfortable position, but they’re too numb to move. He tries to roll his shoulders… but even that doesn’t work. He feels a phantom presence of all his limbs, just as he did in the Lifestream, but no actual physical connection to them. Is he paralyzed?
He looks down at himself, or he tries, but there’s nothing but gravel. He does get a glimpse at his chest, though, and there’s definitely something wrong. It’s completely white, and it has… scales?!
Sephiroth spins around to look at the rest of his body—and gasps.
Or he would have if he could, but all that escapes him is a low, ominous hiss. For instead of his usual imposing body, his tall and menacing figure that used to strike fear into the hearts of mortals, there is now a long, coiled body of a snake.
He curses—hisses—rattling his tail.
How is he supposed to reclaim his birthright if he can’t even pick up a sword?!
Still, Sephiroth refuses to give up. He will find a way, as he always has. Countless times before, he’s achieved the impossible, for he is the son of Jenova, and nothing will stand in his way!
He slithers down the road, grumbling under his breath. The gravel and rocks scratch his belly, and he hates everything. This is all Cloud’s fault somehow; he just knows it!
But perhaps the solution to his current predicament lies with Cloud as well. Under the right circumstances, Sephiroth could turn him into his arms and legs by controlling his mind. And wouldn’t that be the perfect revenge?
He closes his eyes and reaches out with his mind, trying to locate Cloud. He searches high and low, but there is nothing but static. His mind feels empty like never before. Mother is silent, and there is no Cloud; not even an inkling of their presence on the edges of his mind.
Sephiroth hisses angrily and keeps moving.
The road ahead seems endless, and he’s slower than a fucking snail. He has no idea if he’s even heading in the right direction. Without the help of their mental link, he has no idea how to find Cloud. And yet, he must, because he is Sephiroth’s only way out of this mess.
Sephiroth slithers ahead, moving painfully slowly, furious and deeply frustrated by the situation he finds himself in.
Gaia will pay for this dearly! Cloud as well. Everyone will pay for making him suffer this indignity!
He is so blinded by rage that he doesn’t hear a vehicle approaching until it’s too late.
Pain explodes through his body, sudden and overwhelming.
Sephiroth is sent flying through the air at breakneck speed. When he crashes back down to the ground, pain slams into him again, so intense it’s unbearable.
And then it is gone, as darkness claims him.
Over the next few hours or days, Sephiroth drifts in and out of consciousness.
He thinks he can hear Cloud, but he must be a hallucination. Wishful thinking of a broken mind. Yet, real or not, Sephiroth hears him talking to someone in urgent tones. They whisper, then argue. Cloud sounds worried.
Something comes into contact with Sephiroth’s body, making him hiss in pain, but he’s too weak to fight or protect himself.
He passes out again.
An indeterminable amount of time later, he feels careful hands pick him up and move him. A soft hiss escapes him like a sigh, and he loses consciousness once more.
When he finally regains it, the first thing he knows is pain. Every inch of his body hurts.
He is in a small room with a bed, a desk, and not much besides. It is utterly bare and devoid of all personal trinkets and decorations, yet Sephiroth instinctively knows who it belongs to.
The coat thrown over the back of a chair, the whetstone on the desk, and the gloves right next to it all scream Cloud.
So the voice must have been real.
But how did he end up in Cloud’s room of all places? It instantly puts Sephiroth on edge.
He’d set out to find Cloud, but he didn’t expect to face him in this weakened state. He doesn’t even know what this body is capable of.
Sephiroth tries to move, to find out, but the pain is so excruciating he nearly blacks out. Leaving is out of the question. Whatever Cloud plans to do with him, Sephiroth will face it with his head held high. He will not cower!
But then he sees the bandages. The medication.
All of his wounds have been carefully tended to, and he was placed in an old crib, wrapped up in several layers of thick, fluffy blankets. Someone went out of their way to make him comfortable.
Is this a trap, he wonders. A way to add insult to his injury. Because even though he’s tired and drained, the crib offends him. It infuriates him! He is the future ruler of this planet, yet he’s been forced to lie in a crib like a damn baby!
Cloud must have done it on purpose, just to spite him.
He will pay for this! Sephiroth will make sure of it. He’ll remind Cloud that he is not to be taken lightly, even in this form!
Furious, Sephiroth slips between the wooden bars and slithers out of the crib, determined to teach Cloud a lesson.
He doesn’t make it more than two feet before the pain makes him pass out again.
He awakes to gentle hands touching him, lifting him off the floor.
“You shouldn’t move,” Cloud says, taking him back to the damn crib. Sephiroth tries to bite him, but he’s too exhausted, so his head just lolls against Cloud’s arm.
The blankets are shockingly comfortable, unnaturally so. It must all be part of Cloud’s plan to weaken him, because they instantly make him sleepy. They make him reluctant to move.
Sephiroth coils around himself and decides to stay. For now.
“Sorry for running you over,” Cloud mumbles awkwardly, fluffing the blankets around him.
Taken aback by the royal treatment, Sephiroth eyes him suspiciously. Perhaps Cloud has finally accepted his role as a puppet?
But then he keeps talking.
“Tifa patched you up, so you should be good as new in a few days. Then I’ll take you back to the wilds.”
Sephiroth blinks slowly.
This idiot actually thinks I’m a snake.
He bursts out laughing, and for once, he’s glad that it comes out as a strange hiss.
“Rest up. I’ll bring you some food when I return.”
After that, Sephiroth is left alone once more.
He casts a glance around the room, feeling an overwhelming urge to snoop, but he’s too weak. He can already feel his conscience ebbing away, and a short while later, he loses his hold on it.
When he awakes, it is already morning. The sun is streaming through the curtains, illuminating a Cloud-shaped lump on the bed, hidden beneath the sheets. His breaths are slow and even; he is asleep.
Sephiroth cocks his head, fascinated.
Now that Cloud is helpless, perhaps he could attack him. Even in this form, he can subdue a sleeping man. Surely.
Mustering his energy, Sephiroth crawls toward the bed. It is only a few feet away, but it may as well be miles. He huffs and hisses, powering through, and soon enough, he is at the foot of Cloud’s bed. He props himself up, the action pulling on his wounds, but he ignores the pain.
Cloud is so close. Finally within his grasp!
Sephiroth slips beneath the sheets.
He has no idea what kind of snake he might be. A venomous viper? A boa constrictor? Nothing short of a Zolom would be enough to embody his greatness!
Judging by his meager size, that is not what he is, but no matter. All he needs to subdue Cloud is the power of his own mind. The physical strength is of no consequence.
As carefully as he can, Sephiroth slithers up Cloud’s body, but just as he’s about to reach his head, Cloud’s eyes snap open.
He jumps up, immediately reaching for the sword resting by the bed, ready for a fight in seconds. It seems that even in his own home he sleeps with one eye open, waiting to be attacked.
When he sees the snake, Cloud’s expression immediately softens. He puts the sword down and relaxes, patting Sephiroth’s neck, completely unafraid.
“I told you to stay put.”
Cloud’s fingers run up and down his spine absentmindedly. It shocks him. Sephiroth hisses, in anger or pain, he can’t even tell. The touch is so unexpected, that he doesn’t know what to make of it.
The last thing he expected was to feel Cloud’s hands offering comfort. He can’t even remember the last time someone touched him without cruelty.
Perhaps no one ever has.
It feels… strange.
Wrong.
Without turning around, Cloud gropes around the nightstand, searching for his PHS. When he finds it, he squints at it and curses, “Shit, it’s way too early for this. I can get at least two more hours of sleep.”
He chucks the PHS back over his shoulder, not caring where it lands. With only one eye cracked open, he glares at Sephiroth. “You can stay here, but don’t wake me again.”
As if to make sure he doesn’t, he throws an arm over Sephiroth, pinning him in place.
He hums softly, and within seconds, he’s out like a light, asleep once more, leaving Sephiroth reeling. He stares at Cloud’s sleeping face in utter disbelief.
This idiot has no sense of self-preservation whatsoever!
He just placed himself exactly where Sephiroth wanted him: in the position to become his prey.
Sephiroth hisses, feeling gleeful.
You’re mine now!
Unfortunately, he’s too exhausted. Moving across that distance drained him more than he thought, so the moment he tries to gather his powers, it leaves this useless body overwhelmed.
Yet again, Sephiroth falls unconscious, this time in Cloud’s sleeping embrace.
The next time Sephiroth opens his eyes, Cloud is gone. The bed is already cold, so he must have been gone for some time.
Sephiroth hisses in frustration, regretting the missed opportunity, but he knows he’ll get another chance soon enough. Cloud clearly doesn’t see him as a threat. And while Sephiroth finds such dismissal unforgivably offensive, he intends to use it to his advantage.
He spends most of the day drifting in and out of sleep, conserving his strength. When Cloud falls asleep that night, Sephiroth tries again, determined to succeed, but the same thing happens again. It happens yet again the night after, and by that point, Sephiroth is actually starting to feel embarrassed. He has his puppet right where he wants him, but he keeps failing to assume control. Not only that; he keeps sleeping in his arms, which is a huge blow to his ego.
The shortcomings of this body are becoming more and more vexing by the day.
Fortunately, Cloud doesn’t suspect a thing, so Sephiroth can try as many times as he wants. No one but him is aware of his failures.
And there are many.
Every night, Sephiroth approaches him, and every night Cloud wakes and catches him. His hands lock around Sephiroth, forcing him still by pulling him close. It’s this part that Sephiroth cannot understand. Not why Cloud does it, nor why he allows it.
But Cloud’s body is hot like a furnace, like the scorching sun on a bright summer’s day, and to a reptile, there’s nothing more alluring than that.
Embarrassing as it is to admit, Sephiroth is actually starting to enjoy being held. After so many years of solitude, he’s forgotten what it could be like.
Days pass like this, one after another.
As Sephiroth lurks and relaxes in Cloud’s bed, his body grows stronger, recovering quickly. Unnaturally so.
There’s not much Sephiroth knows about snakes, but in one of his endless monologues, Cloud mentioned broken bones and bruised ribs, so he’s certain it should have taken this body longer to heal.
Perhaps he’s not an ordinary snake after all, Sephiroth thinks, feeling hopeful.
But whatever had caused his miraculous recovery, the sudden absence of pain is a blessing, so he doesn’t care to question it too much. After only a week, he’s back at full strength, which means that soon he’ll finally be ready to get his hands on Cloud.
But, as always, Cloud decides to throw a wrench in his plans.
Now that Sephiroth is no longer dying, Cloud suddenly decides to take him back to the desert.
Sephiroth hisses, spits, and resists—he even tries to hide under the damn bed—but Cloud still catches him. He tricks him into thinking that he had left, and then, the moment Sephiroth crawls out from under the bed, he throws a bedsheet over him, grabbing him like a sack of potatoes.
Sephiroth seethes at the indignity. He struggles and squirms, trying to rip the sheet with his teeth to no avail.
Cloud loads him onto his bike with the rest of his deliveries like an oversized parcel.
It is only a brief ride before Cloud parks and opens the trunk. He unwraps the sheet and releases Sephiroth by dumping him unceremoniously onto the ground.
Sephiroth glares, wishing he had the power to set Cloud on fire with his eyes.
The humiliation becomes even worse when Cloud nudges him with his foot.
“Go on. Shoo,” he says, nodding at a small patch of desert shrubbery.
The insult is unbearable. Unforgivable.
Sephiroth whirls around and lunges at him.
Cloud barely has enough time to gasp before Sephiroth coils around his neck and starts squeezing. He’s so blinded by rage that he wants to choke him. It would be so satisfying to get rid of him now. To watch the light fade from his eyes, leaving his face permanently stuck in that shocked expression. It would teach him never to underestimate his master!
Sephiroth almost gives in to the urge, but then he remembers that he needs him.
So instead he forces himself to channel all that fury, all that excess power into Cloud’s mind in an attempt to control him. He reaches out, expecting it to work now that he’s stronger, now that he’s recovered, but he still finds himself alone in an endless void.
Cloud, he tries, putting his authority into his voice. His face hovers above Cloud’s as he stares into his wide, shocked eyes. Obey me.
He waits for Cloud’s eyes to turn green, for his body to go slack and surrender.
Instead, Cloud grabs him by the neck and slams him onto the ground.
Sephiroth rolls through the dirt, sputtering. Clouds of dust rise around him, and if he could cough, he’d be hacking. As it is, he spits and hisses at Cloud, regretting not killing him when he had the chance.
“Alright, alright, you made your point!” Cloud rubs his neck and rolls his shoulders. “I guess I wouldn’t want to sleep outdoors either after discovering what beds feel like.”
Cloud eyes him for a second, and then he shrugs. “I guess I have a pet snake now.”
Pet…?
Sephiroth rattles his tail threateningly, but Cloud remains unbothered. He shakes the sheet in front of him.
“Unless you want to be grabbed again, you better come along.”
He pats his thigh, calling him over like a damn dog. Glancing between him and the sheet, Sephiroth wonders if he could move fast enough to rip his throat out before getting caught.
Ultimately, though, he knows when he’s been cornered, so with a sniff, Sephiroth slithers toward Cloud.
When they reach the bike, Cloud loads him back into the trunk with a bunch of parcels. The boxes poke into his freshly healed ribs, making Sephiroth hiss in protest.
“I don’t have time to take you home, so you better be ready for a road trip.”
Great.
Sephiroth's angry hiss is drowned out by the revving of the engine. He curses Cloud’s terrible driving skills as he tumbles and rolls around the trunk at every sharp turn. It is a miracle Cloud hasn’t killed anyone yet. Sephiroth can’t see from inside the trunk, but based on all the swerving and braking, it feels like Cloud is constantly trying to avoid certain death.
By the time they reach their destination, Sephiroth is beyond grateful that snakes can’t get carsick. As it is, he’s just bored and uncomfortable, itching for some payback.
So, he decides to have some fun.
Cloud makes the mistake of leaving the trunk open, so Sephiroth uses it to his advantage. He slips out the back and slinks after Cloud, unnoticed. By the time he catches up, Cloud is passing a parcel to a young man who keeps trying to flirt with him. It’s almost laughable how his words and innuendo keep flying over Cloud’s head.
When Sephiroth leaps out without warning, the man lets out a terrified screech and falls on his ass. Watching him scramble to get away improves Sephiroth’s mood considerably. Especially when it forces Cloud to apologize profusely.
At their next stop, Cloud closes the trunk, but he doesn’t lock it, so Sephiroth uses his cunning to force it open.
This time, there’s an elderly lady trying to feed Cloud cookies, and it annoys Sephiroth on principle. He rushes at her as fast as he can, nearly giving her a heart attack. It makes Cloud tackle him to the ground, struggling to keep him away from her, but Sephiroth never had any intention to harm her.
When she screams and flees back inside, dropping the whole batch of cookies onto the ground, he gets exactly what he wanted.
All these people need to learn not to mess with Sephiroth’s possessions.
“You’re a handful, aren’t you?” Cloud asks as he drags him back to the bike. Sephiroth hisses smugly in response. But then he hears Cloud call out to the woman, “It’s alright, ma’am, he’s completely harmless,” and all of his good cheer evaporates immediately.
Cloud’s insolence is really getting out of hand. He urgently needs to be put back in his place.
Sephiroth spends the ride home in quiet contemplation—not sulking!—trying to come up with ways to punish Cloud. Unfortunately, they reach the bar before he finds a solution.
On the way in, Cloud picks him up, and Sephiroth allows it, coiling around his waist. He hates crawling outdoors because rocks scratch his skin, and dust leaves him feeling dirty. So what better way to avoid it than forcing his puppet to carry him?
When they enter, Tifa is cleaning the tables, preparing to open the bar. She smiles at Cloud, but her face falls the moment she sees Sephiroth.
His lower half is wrapped tightly around Cloud’s waist, head resting on his shoulder. Seeing her reaction, Sephiroth tightens his hold, coiling possessively, prompting Cloud to give him a little pat.
“Behave,” he murmurs just loud enough for Sephiroth to hear.
“I thought you were getting rid of the snake today?” Tifa asks carefully, eyeing them both.
Sephiroth hisses and loops his tail around Cloud’s neck like a noose. She tenses.
“I tried to release him, but he didn’t want to go.”
Tifa stares, and Sephiroth stares right back. “Yeah, I bet he didn’t.”
“I guess even animals can get used to human comforts.”
“Cloud…” she tries slowly, almost tentatively. “Don’t you think there’s something weird about this snake?”
“Weird how?”
His hand moves up and down Sephiroth’s body absentmindedly. Tifa tracks it with her eyes, her frown growing deeper.
“Well, it showed up out of nowhere, for one.”
“It wasn’t like that. I told you, I ran over it in the desert.”
“And have you ever seen white snakes in the desert before?”
The hand stops moving as Cloud considers the question. He shrugs. “I’m sure there are all sorts of creatures I’ve never seen before.”
Tifa twists the rag in her hands and sighs. “And now it doesn’t want to leave.”
“Well, yeah. I mean, I’ve been feeding it and taking care of it… Why would it want to leave?”
“It’s a wild animal, Cloud.” She starts scrubbing at a stubborn stain and mutters, “Or it’s supposed to be.”
“What do you mean, supposed?”
Tifa ignores his question and poses another one of her own. “Doesn’t it remind you of someone?”
“Who? The snake?” Cloud asks incredulously.
“Yes, Cloud! The white snake with green eyes that won’t stop following you around! I can’t be the only one who sees it!”
Cloud looks at him, and Sephiroth looks back.
This is it, then, he thinks. Cloud will finally realize the truth and attack.
He tenses, prepared to fight back, while the moment stretches into infinity.
“Why would Sephiroth be here as a snake?”
Cloud makes it sound so absurd that, for a moment, even the girl starts to doubt herself. She shrugs helplessly. “I don’t know, Cloud, but look at it! There’s no way that’s not Sephiroth!”
From behind Cloud’s shoulder, where he can’t see, Sephiroth bares his fangs at the girl. It unsettles her even more, but there’s nothing she can do when Cloud refuses to believe her.
“The snake’s been here for a week, but it never tried to hurt either us. It can’t be Sephiroth.”
Not for the lack of trying, Sephiroth thinks miserably. Although, in the end, that worked out in his favor.
“I hope you’re right,” Tifa says, but she doesn’t sound convinced.
“Don’t worry. I’ll keep an eye on it, but I’m telling you, it’s only a snake.”
As they retreat to Cloud’s room, Tifa follows them with sad, worried eyes. Sephiroth hisses happily, basking in his success. A rumble resounds in his body, not unlike a purr.
Once they are alone, Cloud puts him back in that awful crib before kicking his shoes off and sprawling on the bed.
“What a day,” he sighs, rubbing his face.
He gets up eventually and leaves for a while; probably to have dinner or shower or whatever it is that Cloud does every day. Sephiroth uses the opportunity to crawl back into his bed. They do this little dance every single night. For some reason, Cloud always insists on making him use the crib, but he never kicks him when Sephiroth invites himself into his bed.
Usually, Sephiroth waits until he’s asleep, but today he feels daring. Now that Cloud has officially decided to let him stay, he’s making a bold statement, staking his claim.
When Cloud returns and sees him, he lets out an exasperated sigh, but just as Sephiroth predicted, doesn’t force him out.
“You better not wake me or you’re going straight back to that desert,” he warns as he slips under the covers, and within minutes, he’s fast asleep, snoring softly.
By now, Sephiroth already knows Cloud is a light sleeper, so he tries not to jostle him as he makes himself comfortable. In another futile attempt, he tries to reach out to Cloud’s mind, but just like before, he fails. So, instead, he watches Cloud under the cover of moonlight, endlessly fascinated by his gullibility. Even after his friend’s sincere warnings, Cloud is still sleeping right next to him, without a care in the world.
Is he an idiot?
Sephiroth has always believed there was a very thin line between kindness and stupidity, and Cloud keeps proving him right. With his tail, he presses down on Cloud’s throat and watches him squirm. It would be so easy to snap his neck right now. It would only take a second. Barely any pressure at all.
But Sephiroth needs him.
He keeps reminding himself of that fact every moment of every day, trying not to lose sight of the bigger picture.
Eventually, Sephiroth grows bored and drifts off to sleep, wrapped around Cloud. He dreams of world domination. In his dream, he grows large, unfathomably huge, turning into the World Serpent, but instead of biting his own tail, he opens his enormous jaws and swallows the Planet whole.
He’s awoken a few hours later, feeling feverish.
The bed is too hot, like a furnace. It’s never been that way before. Cloud is moving against him in strange, jerky motions, his skin clammy and warmer than usual. A whimper falls from his lips, and at first, Sephiroth thinks he is in pain, but then Cloud’s lower body rubs up against him, and he quickly realizes that is not the case.
Cloud seems to be having a very good dream.
There is a thin sheen of sweat on his brow, making his skin glow in the moonlight. Sephiroth studies him, mesmerized. He’s never seen Cloud so… unrestrained. Usually, he’s yelling and glaring, exuding rage in Sephiroth’s presence.
He’s completely different now. Soft around the edges. Wild. Wanton.
Sephiroth wants to know what he’s dreaming about.
Who he’s dreaming about.
It unsettles him that there is a whole new side of Cloud he’s never even considered.
Cloud is supposed to be his puppet; his plaything. He’s not supposed to have sexual urges of his own. His needs and desires should all pertain to Sephiroth.
But above all, he’s not supposed to be a sexual being at all.
A wave of possessiveness, nearly blinding, consumes Sephiroth.
Cloud is his; his alone. No one is allowed to steal his attention away from Sephiroth.
He snaps back to the present when Cloud starts moving faster, rubbing his throbbing need against Sephiroth’s body. It never even occurs to Sephiroth to move away. He watches Cloud writhe as if in a trance. His legs tangle in the sheets, his moans intensifying. His movements turn increasingly erratic, rough and desperate, until finally, his breath hitches, and he arches off the bed with his mouth open in a silent scream.
The moment stays suspended in time.
Sephiroth feels warmth spread over the front of Cloud’s pants, turning them damp and sticky. The moisture spreads onto Sephiroth’s skin as Cloud keeps rubbing up against him, mewling softly while his pleasure dissipates.
It feels… indescribable. Sephiroth wants to feel outraged, offended that Cloud would use him as a goddamn humping toy, but instead he’s intrigued. He feels marked now that Cloud’s scent lingers on his skin, and it leaves him practically vibrating with need.
Unfortunately, as long as he’s in this body, there is absolutely nothing Sephiroth can do about it.
He slithers against Cloud, sliding up and down a little, making sure to brush against the front of his pants as he moves, enjoying that delicious warmth. Cloud whimpers softly, tempting him further.
Intrigued, Sephiroth slips his tail beneath the hem of Cloud’s pants and touches the slick directly.
He cannot explain what possesses him to do this. Call it morbid curiosity, but he simply needs to take a closer look at it. What little is spread over his skin smells infernally good, calling out to him. He can’t resist it, so he goes straight to the source.
He brings his drenched tail to his lips and inhales. Sharp and musky, so completely unfamiliar.
Sephiroth studies Cloud’s sleeping face as he sneaks a taste. A foreign flavor hits his tongue, and he purrs. A little bitter yet sweet, just like Cloud himself.
Sephiroth instantly craves more.
He reaches back with his tail, but before he can get to his prize, Cloud rolls over onto his stomach, leaving Sephiroth pent up and denied.
How dare he!
This is the worst thing Cloud has ever done to him, and that is a very long list, which includes killing him three times!
Sephiroth spends the rest of the night fuming, tossing and turning. In the absence of sleep, he starts scheming.
When Cloud wakes the following morning and sees what happened, he curses under his breath.
“A fucking wet dream, Cloud? What are you, fifteen?” he grumbles to himself, scowling at his soiled pants. “Gods, I need to get laid.”
Without any shame whatsoever, he tugs his pants down and throws them onto the floor.
Sephiroth stares in disbelief. It feels like his heart is going to explode, but he can’t stop watching.
Clearly, Cloud feels no need for modesty in front of his pet snake. After all, aren’t all animals naked in the wild?
Unfortunately for him, Sephiroth is no snake, so he leers.
He ogles another part of Cloud he knew nothing about.
It is surprisingly sizable, even in this flaccid state, but oh, how wonderful it must have looked the night before, when it was thick and swollen. Just the imprint of it, felt through layers of clothes, left Sephiroth feeling all tingly.
Cloud catches him staring and quickly covers himself with his hands. The air between them turns tense and awkward, but seconds later, Cloud forces himself to relax.
“It’s just a snake, Cloud. It’s not actually looking at you.”
Ah, but Sephiroth is definitely looking.
He’s staring without blinking, memorizing every curve, so that when he sees it in the other state, he’ll be able to compare. He doesn’t stop looking until Cloud leaves for the shower, and even then, he can’t stop thinking about it. The picture of Cloud’s cock seems to be permanently engraved in his mind.
Sephiroth coils up on the bed, in the spot Cloud occupied. The mattress is still warm, carrying a faint scent of him. It smells divine, but it’s not enough. Sephiroth reaches for the underwear Cloud left on the floor, so he picks it up with his tail.
He writhes, coiling around it, feeling an itch he cannot scratch. His skin is too tight. He feels ready to burst out of it—and no, he’s not shedding.
“What’s got into you?” Cloud asks when he returns, and Sephiroth immediately stills, feeling caught.
He hisses as if to say, this is all your damn fault, Cloud! Take responsibility! But Cloud does not react; he doesn’t understand the enormity of Sephiroth’s need.
And he keeps making it worse!
Now he’s wearing nothing but a towel hanging low on his waist, his hair dripping wet. Sephiroth stares, unable to tear his eyes away. The sweet, sweet torture gets even worse when Cloud tugs the towel off and uses it to rub his hair dry, giving Sephiroth a clear view of his body.
It is absolutely stunning.
He is rather short, so Sephiroth never really considered him attractive, but he’s built like a marble statue. His muscles ripple every time he moves, and Sephiroth can’t decide where to look first. At his well-defined chest, those delicious pink nipples, the flat planes of his stomach, or the impressive length swinging between his legs.
Once again, Sephiroth wishes he could have seen it last night, when it was swollen and slick with come.
The thought keeps recurring, again and again, like a fixation. It makes Sephiroth realize that he needs to see it like that.
It’s simple professional curiosity. No part of his puppet can remain unknown.
As Cloud puts on his clothes, slowly hiding himself from view, Sephiroth hopes he’ll have another dream tonight, giving him a repeat performance.
He imagines how that cock would feel in his grasp, what it would taste like, what sounds Cloud would make if Sephiroth devoted himself to his pleasure.
None of those things can remain unknown.