Chapter 1: Sephiroth
Chapter Text
Sephiroth
In the quiet privacy of his lodgings Sephiroth pets his own hair and falls unto his knees with a thud. His skin stings bones creaking so quietly only his enhanced hearing can know that one is slightly out of alignment from today's sword bout with Genesis. The brief pain is never enough. He places his hands on his tense shoulder. Slowly under the pressure the knot eases. His eyes close, his fingers are someone’s else’s. They’re strong and confident as they work over his muscles, he sighs, throat tight and sinks.
Wutai is hard for them, all of them. Angeal and Genesis sort themselves out finally and even Sephiroth is not oblivious to how their scents mix and the way they share glances. Occasionally a third different note joins the pair and Sephirth feels something odd in his chest. The field doctors find nothing wrong with their check up scans. Not that he would mention this to them. No this is something crawling up within him that's tearing apart his insides as it claws to get free. The only thing that helps is laying into the front line and decimating the enemy.
He stares into the eyes of those he manages to hunt down and kill and will not do them the disrespect of looking away. Sephiroth makes himself remember every moment the blade whirls in his hands. Moving a sword through flesh is harder then cutting through air in the practice room. Sephiroth blinks and the battle is over and he’s staring at the dull Shinra issue walls of his tent flaps. Genesis puttering around him.
“You could join us, He would have you,” Genesis girns taunting him as he plays with the strap on Sephiroth's armor, notably this piece of leather is salvage from one of Angeals old harnesses.
“Are you not exclusive?” Sephiroth's eyes linger on the way his turtleneck stretches across Genesis frame, likely pilfered from his closet at some point.
“Exclusive only to each other and then..” Genesis tugs on the leather strap of Sephiroth's armor, adjusting a buckle. the warmth of his hand touching Sephiroth’s chest lingers burning through his turtleneck. “Hmm you.” Genesis stares at him, he's slightly taller then Sephiroth right now and uses every bit of height to his advantage. He waits till Sephiroth rocks slightly in his boots. Only then does he let go of the leather strap with a “schnick”. Sephiroth flinches.
Genesis tracks the motion gaze heady in the low light, “We’ve discussed it.”
We meaning him and Angeal, Sephiroth realizes.
“You say this as if Angeal would have me? Isn’t it you who–” He takes a step back feeling foolish and Genesis follows gaze so hot Sephiroth could catch fire. Genesis matches him step for step, never afraid to challenge Sephiroth, till he drops his gaze.
The men say things sometimes forgetting what Sephiroth can hear. They talk about him in ways he doesn’t quite understand, can't grasp when he sees himself in the mirror. It doesn’t feel bad when Genesis stares though, or Angeal. They are different. He looks at the floor, at Genesis boots something aching in his gut and has to bite back a keen. The way Angeal and Genesis look at him makes Sephiroth want to do ridiculous things like—kneel to the ground.
“No, no darling,” Genesis tuts tugging at the ends of his hair, they’ve long since discarded their swords and he’s taken to ruffling the choppy strands and tugging on them sometimes. It started as part of their scuffles and since evolved to whenever Genesis could find an excuse, his hands are warm between that and the weather it creeps heat into Sephiroth aching bones. “Don't disappear on me.”
Sephiroth freezes momentarily and it's enough, that tone and Genesis gaze, his weakness.
“Come back to our tent.”
Genesis leads and Sephiroth follows.
Genesis doesn’t bother with knocking, he holds aside the tent flap for Sephiroth and strides right on in without any preamble,they are connected still. Connected “I brought you a gift.”
“Sephiroth welcome,” Angeal looks warm in the firelight, his legs are spread with big hands patting his empty thigh, his eyes are inviting and kind. “You decided to join us?” There's room beside his knees, the kind of space Sephiroth could fit in perfectly.
Sephiroth sways in place only anchored by Genesis grip on him.
“I do not need this-I am a perfect being.” He recites, head pounding and mouth dry.
Genesis tugs on his hair again, “you insufferable bastard” his tone hasn’t changed though so Sephiroth determines this to be an endearment. “I can’t stand–when you talk like this.” Genesis ends in a growl then in words almost too low to hear starts muttering about Hojo.
“Genesis-” Angeal cuts through the triad.
“Oh fine then you handle this nonsense. For all his scoffing and Sephiroths cool statements they’re still touching. Genesis squeezes his arm gently and Sephiroth can’t help but start swaying closer if only because Genesis is holding him here.
“It is not flawed or wrong to want Sephiroth.” Angeal says steadily. The way he speaks with such conviction and truth makes Sephiroth want to believe him. “If you are such a being above whatever this becomes, then what we do doesn’t matter. This can’t possibly impair your strategic judgement.”
Genesis cough continues. Sephiroth has become mildly concerned he will choke on his spit and die at this rate. An unacceptable loss. Sephiroth raises his hand and pounds on Genesis back, nodding at his abrupt “Thanks.”
“Sephiroth,” Angeal calls his attention again, “Do you think less of Genesis and I for wanting?”
He weighs Angeal’s words, “No,” his eyes have gone half lidded already though and he’s tired so terribly tired he can only think of fifty ways to incapacitate the enemy, rest will help his productivity, “...I would like to proceed.” The words trip out a bit cold and stilted, Sephiroth does not often say such things as ‘would’ or ‘like’. He either delivers orders or has things decided for him.
“Thank the Goddess,” Genesis grumbles and then his hands are tugging Sephiroth in to lean down on him, “We need to get you out of this coat-Angeal-”
“The coat is a sign of my rank.” His coat is warm and comfortable. Without it Sephiroth's not sure who he will become.
“Really? Are we doing this right now? Genesis grips his jaw and Sephiroth bares his teeth and tries to jerk his head free. Genesis' hand tightens and their gazes lock the red head smirks. He raises a single brow, humming when Sephiroth drops his eyes to the floor again.
Genesis leather gloves are pressing into the bone of Sephiroth's jaw, he leans into the weight. “Look at me” Genesis says mildly irritated and utterly exhausted from fighting, “I’m speaking to you Seph. Not the silver general whose pauldrons are going to feel uncomfortable pressing into Angeals thighs, understood?”
Sephiroth swallows dryly and nods, Genesis doesn't let go, he's expecting something. Sephiroth glances towards Angeal who gives him a reassuring nod, “Understood.” he confirms out loud basking in the warmth of Genesis' smile at his response.
“Good.”
The energy thrumming beneath his skin that continuously pushes Sephiroth to do something, to move and find a task to keep working away runs up against the wall that is his mental exhaustion and stutters. The hazy borderline between absolute apathy and sleep, he can’t afford apathy. His men are instruments of Shinra but not weapons like him, their functionality is different. He must rest and keep his head.
“My men they–” Angeal raises his hand, cutting him off, something he has never–never done before.
“Zack can handle things.” Ah, Angeal's legacy, from the reports and what little Sephiroth had seen of him in action he was doing well. Angeal will handle things, Zack is a part of him.
Sephiroth is still caught in Genesis grip. His pulse thundered in his ear loud in the room to all of them. He flushes keenly aware of the heat of his flesh, the heat of Genesis fingers, the heat of mako in his blood moving under the skin.
“They will assume the chain of command as trained,” Angeal’s voice low and even carries across the tent. “The coat comes off, the armor comes off and you will kneel.”
Sephiroth swallows, tilts his head and gives. “Understood.” He says again when it’s clear words are required.
The pauldrons come off. The leather coat comes off.
Weight leaves his shoulders. The change is instant.
Sephiroth sinks down to the floor on his knees before Genesis or Angeal can catch him. They move fast enough to envelop him regardless. Genesis especially lets his hands linger on skin in a way Sephiroth has never felt before.
Angeal and Genesis will handle things, those in charge will handle things. Sephiroth finds himself settling, his muscles loose and so does his mind.
There's a liquid slowness to him now, a surety that should anything occur it is not his concern. down.
He gives in. Let’s the warm heat of Angeal lull him. Sephiroth wraps his arms around Angeal’s leg for support. Two sets of hands card through Sephiroth's long hair. Genesis & Angeal. He knows the power behind their touch.
There is nothing here that can defeat them besides himself..
Chapter 2: Zack Fair
Summary:
Enter Zack Fair
Chapter Text
Sephiroth: Enter Zack Fair stage right
“Good sub, bad sub, good dom, bad dom who cares?” Zack Fair laughs while splitting a beer with friends, “I give them what they want in the end.”
Sephiroth, who had been planning on taking the most covert route to pick up his take out on the recreational floor, pauses.
Zack Fair is a bright eyed bushy tailed beast unto himself. Angeals mentee is quietly added to the list of people Sephiroth must watch, must listen for and know in a crowded room. Angeal hasn’t mentioned fully integrating him into their.. .. their company yet but Genesis has already been bandying his name about in bed. Sephiroth is not unaware of what a bedroom occupied by more than two people sounds like.
Sephiroth doesn’t mean to overhear, or he does but only in the way that Zack fair is important and on a radio frequency of sound he unconsciously tunes into. He looms leaning on the side of the bar waiting for the mountain of takeout Angeal and Genesis have ordered.
“What is that?” He asks, there is no one here high enough rank to punish the question, no one here who would scorn the Silver General for asking. They must assume its needling rather than genuine curiosity.
This section of the bar has gone suspiciously silent.
A few of the soldiers don’t seem to know if they should stand up and bow, salute or pass on—Sephiroth waves them off. Several who are used to his brisk manner are more relaxed and simple give a quick wave, nod or tilt a glass
“Speak freely.” Sephiroth continues allowing a bit of a smile to cross his face, he does admit to a certain amount of glee from teasing the soldiers.
“....”
Zack Fair considers for a moment joking it off, but he's had enough beers, this is a bar on the way up to the towers. There’s a very handsome general in front of him that looks a lot more like an inquisitive kitten with blinking predatory eyes and ruffled hair he wants to smooth down. “Control, they want control even if they don't know that's what they’re buying. Right General?”
Caught out by the smile on his face and the boldness to touch Sephiroth ears burn. A server quickly places the bags of takeout on the counter.
Zack Fair grins, Sephiroth feels distant he finds one hand reaching for his sword and it's missing the comfortable leather of the hilt isn't there to grab for balance.
“Let me take that for you,” Zack quietly tells him.
Sephiroth finds himself handing the takeout over.
“With me.” He commands, making his voice audible to their eavesdroppers. The way his knee shakes hidden by the length of his coat.
Zack Fair waves off his companions who have been politely looking anywhere but at them and out of ear shot anyway. He follows dutifully at Sephiroth’s heel, takeout in hand, the remnants of a smirk still tugging at the corners of his mouth.
There’s a presence in Zack Fair. A hint of dominance and something else. Sephiroth can feel it. A distinct flavor on his tongue, a familiar pressure behind the cage of his ribs. It’s present, but it doesn’t intrude, and doesn't purposefully break through by removing the leather of the straps digging into Sephiroth’s shoulders. Their grip is tight. He wants them gone.
“Aw shit.” Zack’s tone is annoyed, slightly clipped,”They forgot that sauce Angeal likes.”
Sephiroth pauses in his calculated steps. “I’ll return for it.”
He wouldn’t, not usually. He would send Angeal’s faithful hound to fetch or another poor pa. But his uniform is still too tight, his sword out of reach, his very skin suffocating. He wants distance, an excuse for fetching sauce and a moment to better collect himself.
”No no,” Zack Fair tells him, lifting his hands palm out as easy as can be.His body language says submissive his voice is playful but uncompromisingly dominant. “I got this.”
Sephiroth prepares an order for the soldier to wait behind, but Zack beats him to it.
“Stay.” Zack Fair orders, flashing him a wide smile and takes off. Stay, the word is louder than the fretful mantra of Sephiorth’s thoughts, heavier than the weight of his uniform on his frame.
Sephiroth is helpless to do anything but stare after him as Zack Fair bounces back over to the bar then bound right up to him.
“You’re still here,” Zack Fair notes, “that’s good.” easy as you please he sidle’s right up to Sephiroth, there hands brush when Zack drops the extra sauce into the carry out bag, with a cheeky wink he gives Sephiroth's wrist a quick squeeze, “Have good night general.”
The moment the steps in the room Sephiroth's pupils expand and contract, his olfactory sense sharp as ever, already sensing the emotions in the room. Genesis & Angels presence is a storm of information to the senses, the deep steady thunder of Angeals heart and dominance paired with the crisp strike of Genesis tempter this evening.
Genesis circles him hungrily smirking, “You smell of Zack fair.”
“Yes.” Sephiroth answers and doesn’t know what else to say.The takeout is set to the floor quickly forgotten. Otherwise Sephiroth keeps stock, still letting himself be examined. If not for the slight quickening in his breath only perceivable by enhanced hearing, he would be a statue.
“He put his hands on you.” Genesis eyes narrow he’s mouthing at Sephiroth's wrist, dampening the leather of his glove almost feral pulling it aside till Angeal distracts him.
“He’s a good man.”
“I’m not debating his moral fiber,” Genesis rolls his eyes in annoyance sliding the takeout towards Angeal with his boot. He returns focus on any bare patch of skin he can reach. Which for Sephiroth who had forgotten his gloves means his hands and wrists are under attack by one Genesis Rhapsodos.
Aneal mutters something back voice low and humoring.
Sephiroth is barely listening, too distracted by how possessive Genesis is, pressing his teeth over the delicate tendons of his wrist. His whole body feels like burning, like at any moment he’ll crumble or catch fire.
“You want to keep him.” Genesis grits out already bristling. There’s a hidden humor to the curl of his lips when Sephiroth looks for it, and the way he’s holding his shoulders speaks more to feigned frustration then real fear.
“I want to keep all of you.” Angeal corrects steering him around firmly.
They’ve moved to either side of Sephiroth now, circling and posturing, small displays of dominance passed silently between them.
Sephiroth goes light headed, the takeout is long forgotten. He sways with Genesis moving till the back of his legs hit the couch. He goes down easily, grateful for the warm way
“Selfish,” Genesis challenges cutting as ever, he’s already tasted blood once this evening and it's clear he’s itching to again. Both of them are taller than Sephiroth right now, looming over him and yet he isn’t afraid. Now is not the time for him to worry or mediate, Angeal & Genesis will sort this out themselves.
Genesis knee presses against his thigh jus this side of too hard but Sephiroth can’t bring himself to move. His head is light but his limbs are heavy clumsy things that don’t want to listen.
Sephiroth whines softly. Genesis closes his mouth, cutting himself off, and redistributes his weight, “Shh, Seph our general,” He murmurs.
Angeals hands go from the back of the couch to Genesis hair.
Sephiroth knows the moment Angeals grip goes from comforting to scruffing. It’s there in the way Genesis sinks into Angeals touch, melting to the floor in one fluid motion to start helping Sephiroth take off his boots. By some unspoken rule Angeal takes the couch and Genesis crowds in closer, pressing his head into Sephiroth's hands and somehow wrapping himself around Sephiroth's legs in a way that's leaning the burning warmth of his body against Sephiroth's calf. Genesis gloved hands linger on his ankle, careful of the delicate bones.
Aneagals arm is a reassuring weight behind him and Sephiroth is too tired to protest when he's moved to rest back against Angeal. Like this all of them are connected, almost like a perfect triad, like the cusp of something more than the sum of its parts.
For tonight, Sephiroth lets himself breathe in the dominance in the air and settles. This is as far as they will take things. Sephiroth won’t allow any further weakness not since Wutai.