Chapter Text
Everything was hot. Sephiroth’s body, the tips of his fingers, his cheeks — everything. Hot, and wet, and his hair was tangled in a mess, his throat was drier than the plains around Midgar, and…
And none of that mattered. He made a noise, something like a pathetic whine or a plead. It didn’t matter what that was either, because suddenly he felt something soft against his throat, something slow and delicate — nothing like Hojo’s hands or his assistants. Almost like a butterfly running her wings back and forth, the movement so soothing he all but forgot about the need he felt between his legs. All but.
“Please,” he whispered. Who was he even speaking to? Moments like this, between the glimpses of sanity under his heats, he regretted his cowardice, his shame. Genesis was off on his mission, he was pretty sure at least. Angeal, though… There was a chance he was right next door. Angeal and his big, rough hands, his scratchy face and serious brow.
Angeal, who did not know about Sephiroth’s truth. Angeal, who was helplessly in love with Genesis and loyal to a fault.
He whined. Before tears started leaving him again like they tended to do during such moments, that spot between his legs was filled, sharpness dancing on the skin of his neck. Alpha scent surrounded him like a blanket, better than any nest he had ever made. He tried to look, he really tried, but his eyes betrayed him, vision blacking out as whatever he reached for reached back to him.
More friction, more bodily fluids spreading all over him. Human nature, disgusting and comforting all at once. That burn returned, the burn of his inner walls stretching to accommodate a knot, but he had gotten so used to it he found it as arousing as the pressure on his jaw.
“Yes,” he hissed between all the blurriness.
His fingers were never this good. Never this hot or thick, or pulsing with come to extend his orgasm to the point of him finally losing consciousness. A voice called out for him, a question about his well-being maybe. He had no interest in paying attention to it.
Next he awoke, he found himself tangled around a body. Slender and lean, short legs and a covered neck, Sephiroth could just barely focus on the image. His own head was pillowed on the other’s upper body, the scent of alpha and sweat all around him. His mouth, he realized as he took in his surroundings as best he could, was latched onto said alpha’s chest, teeth grazing around the nipple and sucking inwards. The feeling was soothing, providing him a comfort he could not accept anymore on his lower part — too tender and raw after Goddess knew how many days had passed.
He slowly blinked. The skin on the other’s chest was red with his marks all across. Days. Days in bed with an alpha.
Quietly, he tried to look upwards without alerting them. His tongue stayed flat against their skin, lips opened around the nipple he truly did not wish to part with.
Blond hair, plump mouth, round cheeks. Right, Fair’s friend from the infantry, his eyes closed and eyebrows furrowed. A knot got tangled in his belly at the realization, his grip on the other’s body becoming just a little tighter. He swallowed the whine that threatened to leave him, his lips sucking against the other’s skin a little more.
The hiss the alpha let out made Sephiroth freeze, but the hand that squeezed his shoulder allowed him a breath again, feeling like some kind of encouragement.
Blue eyes opened sluggishly, so he averted his own, down to the chest he had been abusing for who knew how long.
“Do you want some water now, maybe?”
The question was unexpected. It implied he had declined water before. He shifted, feeling the absence of anything between his legs all the more clearly. Right, the heat. He let go of the nipple and slowly, just barely, nodded in affirmation.
Strife moved, and Sephiroth refused to let go. His hands held on tighter around his middle, fingers pushing against bruises that were painted on him in their shape.
He did not go far. He pulled away just for a moment, reaching down to the floor and returning to Sephiroth with a water bottle. He could feel the man’s eyes on him, but he did not have it in him to look up again. Instead, he focused on the movement those fingers made as they unclasped the cap, the sound of it opening loud and annoying.
“Come on,” he said. Sephiroth obliged, finally parting his face off that chest and tilting his chin upwards. His hands were anchored still, but Strife did not seem to mind, not too much at least. Sephiroth only saw the frown he put on from his peripheral vision, but he saw it nonetheless. His heart clenched.
“Open up.”
Sephiroth’s mind was still not fully out of his heat, he thought, because the first thing he did was try to spread his legs, which was quite counterproductive, his thighs a mess between the other’s as they were.
A gentle hand reached his jaw and he tensed, eyes darting at it. The bottle followed though, reaching his lips.
The water was lukewarm, but it still did wonders for his throat. He might have moaned. He wasn’t sure. The headache that was hovering him eased up, his eyes closing as he drank the whole bottle in one go.
“More?” Strife asked, but Sephiroth had a different craving now. He wasn’t sure if his cock hardening up was felt against the thigh it was resting, so he moved his hips just slightly. He hated this. He hated the shame that came with knowing what was happening. He hated how scared he felt, like a child in the labs, alone under a camera.
He did not want to beg. He did not want to ask. He wanted this to be over. He wanted to go back to himself. Get dressed with his armor and pick up his weapon. Feeling so small and alone made him hate himself.
A soft rumble reached him, that chest he was so close to vibrating just slightly. It startled him. Strife thought it funny, because it got interrupted by a quiet huff of a laugh. When it continued, Sephiroth pulled himself closer, feeling it against his cheek, his neck, his own chest, his stomach.
Without much thought, he pushed away. The other was surprised, a question falling off his lips, but he paid it no mind. He turned before pushing his back close again, wanting to feel that comfort across him like that.
A hand delicately reached around his shoulders. Another slithered under his head. Warmth covered him exactly as he wanted it to, those soft alpha purrs traveling alongside his spine. He wanted to offer a thanks, but he had truly no way for it. He settled for simply drifting off, hopeful the worst of the heat at least was over — a lie he wanted to believe himself as his cock stayed hard between his legs.
It took a while until he realized he was panting. So lost in the warmth and calm Strife provided, by the time tears gathered in his eyes he was drenched, that familiar ache reaching him deep into his core. The length he felt alongside his ass told him the alpha behind him knew.
Shame was a poison he was all too willing to drown in.
He pulled himself away, tired limbs dragging across his old clothes. The tiny hints of smell they tended to carry when Genesis got a bit too close or Angeal offered to wash them for him were always the silver lining during his heats. Now, they were covered in Strife’s odor, overwhelming and hot. He turned, chest close to them, knees pulling forward, lower body raising. He inhaled, turning to look away from the alpha as he presented himself on all fours.
Fingers traveled along his backside, the palm that followed cupping his ass and pulling to the side. He whined.
He didn’t have the time to beg at least. The fingers spread him apart before dragging alongside his walls. It felt good. It felt so good. His legs pulled apart even more. The hot member that kissed his entrance made him moan, eyes clenching shut. It slid deep inside so easily, so smoothly. His hands gathered the cadet pants he could smell just on his side, pulling them close to his face and inhaling deeply. His mouth opened, trying to get a taste and moaning when it did not even compare to the man's cock.
The hot drag deep inside him was so satisfying. His mind was too clear, too in the moment. He could notice every twitch of it, every grunt that came out of the other’s throat. His hips touching Sephiroth’s ass was something he hadn’t noticed before. He was so deep. He needed him deeper. He needed to be devoured.
The orgasm that reached him was forceful. It truly was the end of his heat when he finally finished, painful as he could not bare the touch he craved on his cock. Strife kept fucking him, sweat dropping on Sephiroth’s naked back and making him shiver. More twitching inside him, more fast thrusts that made his eyes cross, and then that knot he was so familiar with finally formed, his cunt clenching around it and pulling it inwards.
His knees hurt. His neck, too, from the awkward position. Still, he didn’t want to move. He complained with a grunt when he was pulled on his side again, the knot dragging slightly as they settled down together.
“’M sorry,” he tried to mumbled. He got no answer other than a slow hand tracing along his collarbone in soothing circles.
Next time he opened his eyes, he was empty again. For the first time in a while, he didn’t whine at the realization. Instead he blinked, taking in the darkness of the room. Strife was by his side, staring out of the window overlooking Midgar’s night. Sephiroth’s head was pillowed on his shoulder, nose tickled by the scarf.
Right, the scarf. The one barrier between them while he fought every instinct in his body, trying not to bite a stranger because of his heat. He pushed his face deeper in the folds. The other didn’t even react to it, either too lost in his own thoughts or too used to Sephiroth’s antics.
The silence dragged on. Everything was filthy around them, there were water bottles and supplements all across the floor, and Sephiroth wanted nothing more than to stay there forever.
Before he could chide himself for that childish thought, his front door ringed. He froze. Strife’s eyes were wide too when he looked up. Their gazes met.
“Uhm,” Strife said, somehow embarrassed despite everything Sephiroth put him through already. “Should I?”
Another ring, followed by a shout for him to hurry up. It sounded like Genesis.
“Strife,” he said, his throat scratchy and raw. “Do not.” He realized his arms were trembling against the other’s skin on his side. “Please.”
Another two rings in quick succession. His PHS started ringing too, from somewhere in the kitchen. He cursed, realizing Genesis would hear that no matter what. They said nothing more to each other as electronic notifications kept buzzing throughout the apartment, minutes rolling by like that.
And then, all was quiet.
Strife averted his gaze when that silence returned. Sephiroth lowered his own too.
All was quiet — for a few moments at least, because then another PHS rang, from right in the nest. Strife’s, judging by the pants it rang from. He cursed, reaching for it and going to pick it up before pausing, looking in Sephiroth’s direction. Sephiroth instead shut his eyes and inhaled the alpha scent, trying to calm his beating heart.
Strife pushed himself up slightly and picked up.
Before he could even answer, Zack Fair’s thunderous voice sounded all across the bedroom, asking question after question about what happened to some report of his, where Cloud was, what happened.
“Zack,” the other said, voice small. “I screwed up.”
Sephiroth’s first instinct was to whine against that chest. An instinct he was unable to stifle.
Strife gasped, body tensing under Sephiroth’s where they connected. His hand returned on his neck, rubbing slowly again. It helped.
“No I… Listen, I…”
Sephiroth tried to purr, a gesture he knew was supposed to be comforting. He tried. He tried, but doubted it worked. He shut his eyes and focused on the vibrations in his middle. They were so soft, barely felt by himself; there was no way the other felt anything at all.
Useless.
“I’m… No, I’m not at the barracks.”
He gave up trying, tilting his head up. Strife’s gaze instantly darting to him. “He doesn’t know,” he whispered softly.
Those round blue eyes widened, his lips parting. Sephiroth went back to hiding between the scarf. The thick smell of forest and rain comforted him.
Zack was quiet on the other line, waiting for an explanation. Strife didn’t say anything. Sephiroth’s heartbeat began pounding louder and louder.
And then, the front door was heard opening.
Strife might have tried to get out of the nest, but Sephiroth’s hands had gripped him tightly and wouldn’t let go. He couldn’t.
Footsteps came forward, alongside Genesis’ sing-songing voice, offering mercy if they came out swiftly — or at least doing that for a moment before he paused, the gasp that followed sharp enough to make Sephiroth flinch.
Fair’s shouts at Strife to speak up came and became unbearable at once.
And then, Genesis’ boots carried him to the hallway, his sword glinting as he approached, his mako eyes shining as they finally fell on him. On them.
“What,” he asked, before he snapped his gaze at Strife with anger. The other was still holding his PHS next to his ear. He took a step closer, and Sephiroth…
Sephiroth growled. He growled, because Genesis was intruding. He growled, because the alpha by his side was the only thing he cared about in the moment. He growled, because it was easier to do than purr.
“What in Shiva’s name is going on,” his friend asked, voice steady yet full of venom.
More footsteps. Sephiroth shut his eyes and held Strife closer. Angeal’s scent was unmistakable as he entered the house, his question about the smell going unanswered by them all.
“Uhm,” Strife mumbled. “It’s — I didn’t mean to —”
Zack’s voice was loud from outside the apartment. He was knocking on Genesis’ door, if Sephiroth were to guess. He had heard them talk, probably. Only a matter of time before he realized where his cadet friend was. Where he definitely shouldn’t be.
Angeal at least seemed to take a hold of himself quite soon. He stumbled backwards, reaching for Genesis and pulling him back with him. The other tried to complain, expression twisting to outrage as he seemed to connect the dots in his mind.
“How about we give them some privacy and we talk when they’re not naked?”
Strife seemed to only then realize he was indeed obscured just by Sephiroth’s own body as he was draped over him. He twisted, throwing the PHS to the side and pulling a pair of sweatpants over the half that wasn’t covered up. Sephiroth himself did not care if they saw. The scent had given his anatomy away anyway.
Genesis kept staring as he was forced to walk backwards, anger directed at both with the promise that this wasn’t over.
The front door was closed again. Silence returned, but Sephiroth could not relax. His hands refused to move from around Strife, the warmth he had gotten so used to a drug he hadn’t had enough of yet.
“Sir?”
He could not avoid it any longer, though. It was obvious the heat was over now. What was he to do, anyway? Keep the poor cadet in his nest against his will for even longer?
“Yes?” he asked, resigned and tired.
“Uhm. Is it… Are you feeling okay?”
He forced himself to let go, fingers relaxing but not quite pulling away from the alpha’s skin. “I apologize, cadet.”
“You apologize — You — huh?” He shifted under Sephiroth but didn’t push him away. Instead, he grabbed the pillow and slotted it behind his back, between the mess of clothes and blankets. “Sir, I am the one who should be apologizing. I took… advantage of you…”
That actually made him pause. “Why were you in my apartment, cadet?” He realized he barely paid attention to that while the heat was taking over his every nerve.
“I… Zack was late for his report and wanted me to leave it at your place… He thought you were not home…”
He huffed. His hand was growing numb under the other’s weight. “Yes, on paper I was on a mission.”
Strife swallowed. “Does… Did nobody know?”
He shook his head. Now that his mind was clearer, he felt bad about all the bruises he left on the other. Idly he let his lips trace a deep one, close to his nipple but not quite on it. Probably not the most professional thing he could have done. Maybe he needed to put some distance between them. The scent was making him dizzy.
“To cover up the frequent heats I am written off as on ‘confidential’ duty. It keeps the press off. And the rest of SOLDIER.”
“Oh… I see…”
Sephiroth shifted again. He felt too warm now.
“Does it… happen often?”
He nodded. “More often than the average… of my kind, yes.” He thought about it for a moment. “How long have I kept you in this — on this bed?”
“Huh? It’s the fifth night now.”
“I see… That explains Genesis’ reaction. I was supposed to be back three days ago.”
Strife’s skin was so smooth. So pretty to look at. His blond hair was so sparse, his muscles so lean. He smelled like desire.
“You should… Uhm, if I may, you should probably have a full dinner.”
Sephiroth huffed again. “How so?”
“You didn’t eat… almost at all, sir.”
“That’s quite normal, I’m afraid. I will be fine. You, on the other hand. Did you help yourself while you were here?”
He nodded, averting his gaze. “I did, yes.”
“Good.”
More silence, but after their quick talk it didn’t feel as strained. Those fingers he had gotten used to on all parts of his body returned on the back of his head, softly scratching Sephiroth’s hair. His hair, which he realized now was not as messy as he thought it was previously. A quick check around showed him his brush was on the nightstand instead of in his bathroom. His heart clenched at the realization that the other took the time to take care of him beyond just his basic and carnal needs.
“Uhm.”
Sephiroth looked upwards once more.
“I think that’s bad.”
“What is?”
“That you don’t eat during your heats…”
Sephiroth knew that, of course. Hojo screamed at him for most of his teenage life about it. “It does not come easily to me, I’m afraid.”
“Well… Uhm. Having a partner helps? With, you know. It helps if they try to help, I mean.”
“Yes, but I’m afraid my station…” His words died in his mouth. Both Genesis and Angeal knew, now. Zack probably, too, or he soon would.
“I wouldn’t mind helping you out,” the other said, way too quickly, clumsily.
Sephiroth blinked. “Strife?”
“I mean — I know you said your station matters, but I — I should stop talking.”
He inhaled that scent in once more. Alpha, masculine in the most delicate way possible. He still couldn’t get his body to leave his side, almost like they were carved into each other. Did he mean he wanted to stay with him during…
“I do not think that is wise, considering you know nothing about me. Besides, you…” He licked his lips. He hated admitting it. “You are heavily influenced by my heat. As am I right now. I assume once we put some distance between us and wash the scents off we’ll have a very different opinion.”
“Oh…”
And that haunted silence returned. Sephiroth was half-way done convincing himself to get up when the other spoke again.
“Well, we could still, uhm… keep in touch? If you want? And if you ever want help again, you can ask me?”
Sephiroth scoffed. “And would you feel safe denying one of your superiors?”
“Well, I mean…”
The PHS started pinging again, with messages this time. Strife twisted his body, reaching for it without pushing Sephiroth off. He skimmed through them quickly.
“Zack… still doesn’t know. Rhapsodos refused to say anything and Hewley sent him off on an errant.” He looked down at Sephiroth. “How does he not know, by the way?”
He hummed quietly. “I have a few hypotheses. My main one is his own partner’s scent is stronger than mine, therefore he doesn’t pick up on it.”
“Or he doesn’t pay attention.”
He tilted his head in half-agreement.
It was nice. It was too nice. He was late for multiple reports (Fair’s included), and Lazard was probably going crazy looking for him.
Or, considering Genesis found a spare key, Lazard knew already his heat was extended. He cringed at the realization. He hoped the man hadn't arranged a lab appointment because of it.
“Strife?”
The other flinched. “Yes, sir?”
“May I call you Cloud?”
Washing was hard. He didn’t want to feel all the filth on his body any more, but at the same time he didn’t want Cloud’s scent to fade away either. Still, he forced himself to at least do so for his hair, the shampoo made specifically to mimic alpha pheromones hiding that musky comfort he already missed. His fingers felt alien inside his own body as he opened himself up, trying to clean Cloud’s come as best he could. Thankfully, his cock was too spent to react to the drag against his walls. Still, that didn't stop him from tasting the other's leftovers against his tongue, eyes shutting at the phantom thrusts of his memories.
Taking apart the nest was harder. Literally. He wasn’t exactly tidy during his heats alone, but it never got this messy, not to this extend at least. Clothes stuck to each other, a set of socks he didn’t recognize were tangled in his own, and he couldn’t find his pillow case.
He had called Angeal and asked quietly for an extra cadet uniform in Cloud’s sizes, and the other was instant in his reply and delivery outside the apartment. Sephiroth was glad for the privacy he was offered. They were offered.
Cloud had appointed himself to the kitchen. He carried all the bottles, plates and boxes back where they belonged, the water in the faucet running as he cleaned up. He had showered and worn some of Sephiroth’s old clothes while they waited, and he’d be a liar if he said his heart wasn’t swelling with pride at both the sight and the smell.
The scarf was left on the nightstand. Looking at it, Sephiroth didn’t have the heart to throw it in the washing machine with the rest. He would do it another time, he promised himself. For one more night, he wished to keep it as it was. He felt a weird sense of gratitude towards it.
The goodbye was hard, and a little complicated too as they had to speak about paperwork. He wanted to make sure the cadet would have no issues because of his absence when it was entirely Sephiroth’s fault, so he would try to arrange for some signed report of them working together during these days. They exchanged PHS numbers, and how surreal of an experience that was when all he thought about while staring at those fingers typing away on the device was the way the fit nicely inside his body. Zack's report was not in the best condition after being rolled around in Cloud's uniform in the nest, but Sephiroth was sure he would be able to manage.
By the time everything was done, the morning had come, Midgar’s sun shining brightly in the cleaned up bedroom.
Sephiroth didn’t have time to sit down and think. He probably wouldn’t want to sit anyway, judging by how sore his lower body was. The front door opened and Genesis came rushing through, taking a seat on the couch with crossed legs, throwing him a daring glare over his shoulder.
“Speak. Now.”
He sighed. “May I have that extra keycard back?”
“No. Not until you explain why that twink was lounging with you on his side like you’re a plaything.”
Angeal joined them a bit later, hesitant to intrude, waiting for Sephiroth’s explicit invitation. He told them both about his designation, about how it mattered little when it came to his gender, about the frequency of his heats. He shied away when they started to put two and two together, realizing the pattern of his solo mission timings. Hojo’s specific instructions for his public image came up soon enough, the way he was raised with nothing but his fingers or the man’s assistants to help the ache — back when he had no bodily autonomy at all. They were in shock, unable to actually say anything that wasn't a stuttering non-committal 'I see' or 'that makes sense'. Genesis couldn't even look him in the eye as more time passed. Angeal kept his distance, almost like he was scared of him.
And then… then his PHS rang with a message. A message by Cloud.
“Would you like to maybe grab some breakfast later?”