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The clinking of chains adorned with pearls, crystals, and charms echoes with every step Sephiroth takes as he is led down the hall.
One of the guards, Zack Fair, cast slow on him before leaving the dressing room and is guiding him with a delicate silver chain, attached to Sephiroth’s collar like a leash. Despite this ridiculous outfit, Sephiroth is determined to behave himself today. He must get on the prince’s good side.
Surprisingly, since that flogging and during his recovery, many of the guards who were wary of him at first now see him as a comrade. Zack and Kunsel are the two who bring Sephiroth his meals and stand guard outside his chamber in the slave quarters. They insist that Prince Cloud isn’t as cruel as he seems.
“You know, he can be a bit of a brat and a hard-ass, but really, you’ll grow to love him,” Zack explained.
“There is no more loyal regiment than the prince’s guard,” Kunsel agreed. “And we’ve all been on the other side of his royal temper.”
Apparently, taking that beating at Cloud’s command recruited some friends—or at least advocates—for Sephiroth. And Gaia knows that he’ll need all the advocates he can get while at the crown prince’s mercy. Think of the devil, and he shall appear.
“Zack. How is my new pet behaving this evening?”
Cloud is standing in the hallway, hands on his hips, wrapped in head-to-toe black leather. He has a few gold adornments on his sleeves, and his outfit covers all of his skin. Despite the modest look, Sephiroth can’t help but notice how the leather wraps around that svelte little body so snugly, emphasizing a narrow waist, delicate curves, and defined muscles. Even his heeled boots do little to make him more intimidating—they hug his entire calf and fasten just above his knees. Tonight, Cloud is wearing a delicately wrought gold crown, nestled in his wild spikes, almost hidden in shiny hair. He truly is gorgeous.
“Your Highness,” Zack returns with a smile. “Sephiroth is doing great! He behaved with Andrea Rhodea and is the perfect model. And the results are, uh, quite impressive.”
Zack stands a few inches shorter than Sephiroth, and while he is well-built, Sephiroth still looms over both men. Even in his current lack of outfit, Sephiroth thinks.
Cloud hums, sending a shiver down Sephiroth’s spine. Examining Sephiroth as one might admire a painting, Cloud takes a slow walk around him. Sephiroth doesn’t bother lowering his eyes, captivated by the prince’s scent as well as how he carries himself.
“Andrea really did his best work, didn’t he,” Cloud comments as if he’s not expecting a response, but Zack replies anyway.
“He did, Your Highness! He said Sephiroth is a work of art—even without any adornments—”
Cloud quickly waves to silence Zack, then holds out his hand to take the delicate chain attached to Sephiroth’s collar.
“I’d like a few moments alone with him.”
“As you wish, Your Highness.” Zack hands over the leash and lowers his head in a respectful bow.
Cloud yanks Sephiroth’s chain to pull him into a nearby formal sitting room, closing the door behind them. There’s a large mirror on the wall, and Sephiroth once again faces the disparity between their dress. As confident as he is in his physical body, a flash of humiliation rushes through him like a shock. Cloud notices and turns up his lips in a smirk.
“Don’t you look so pretty,” he purrs.
Sephiroth’s outfit is absurd. It should be revealing if he is indeed Prince Cloud’s pleasure slave. But in Midgar, the pleasure slaves save their treasure to share with their masters in private. Nibelheim doesn’t operate on the same rules. Here, apparently, the flashier and more revealing the slave’s outfit, the higher the standing of the master.
His only “real” pieces of clothing are a white thong and silver sandals. His hair is worn mostly down, with some crystals and gems woven into his long tresses. His heavier collar has been swapped out for a delicate band of silver, slotted with materia and adorned with one long chain, currently in Cloud’s hand. Sephiroth could easily break the chain, but he’s determined to make Cloud his ally. He has to gain Cloud’s trust if he wants to escape.
In addition to the collar, Sephiroth’s chest is draped in chains, sparkling with jewels showing off his skin and nipple piercings. The draped beads accent his pecs and narrow waist and expose his shoulders. Several chains slope over his biceps. Plus, there’s a belt, consisting of more silver, jewels, and pearls, encircling his waist, accenting the V of his hips and dripping on the outside of his thighs.
Sephiroth can’t deny the look is sexy and glamorous—it’s just not what he’s accustomed to wearing in public. At all.
“Beautiful,” Cloud murmurs softly.
“Thank you, Your Highness,” Sephiroth replies, moving closer to the prince despite himself. He can’t help wanting to tower over his owner, wanting to get him on his back—er, his back foot. How captivating this young, bratty prince is! Cloud grabs his chin and pulls it down in what might be a gesture of respect, but Sephiroth refuses to drop his gaze.
“Hmm.” Cloud still holds Sephiroth’s leash. “I wish you weren’t so pretty. You’re almost perfect. I’d like to display you in all your glory tonight. You are my revered and treasured gift from the King of Midgar, and the regent believes I should treat you as such.”
Cloud traces a leather-clad finger along Sephiroth’s jaw. His brows furrow slightly when Sephiroth does not lower his eyes.
“And yet you still do not lower your gaze. How insolent!” Cloud huffs. “Whatever shall I do with you? The regent has returned, and he is… displeased with my treatment of you. I will require your obedience tonight in the ballroom. You must impress him.”
A sly smirk lifts the corner of Sephiroth’s mouth, which deepens the furrow in Cloud’s brow.
“Or what, Your Highness?”
In response, Cloud releases Sephiroth’s chin and gives him a sharp shove with both hands, and Sephiroth stumbles back into a plush chair. He manages to catch himself with a trace of dignity while he slowly arranges himself.
“Oh, that flogging was only the beginning! You have no idea how painful I can make your life,” Cloud growls, stepping up close to Sephiroth and standing between his legs. Through the tight leather pants, Sephiroth sees the beginning of Cloud’s arousal—and Sephiroth himself is no better. He is barely covered in the white silk thong.
“I’d so much prefer to enlist your cooperation. You will be on your very best behavior. I only wish to help you comply with my orders.”
With that, Cloud gives him that charming half-smile and then lowers his lips to Sephiroth’s scent gland. It’s partially exposed above the decorative collar, and Sephiroth’s hands come up to embrace Cloud’s shoulders.
Speaking directly into his skin, Cloud whispers, “Stop.”
Sephiroth freezes as the magic shimmers over his body.
“Good boy,” Cloud says, and a wave of actual fear rushes through Sephiroth. He’s never considered a mating bite—it hadn’t been relevant back in Midgar. He had no access to omegas, and alphas and betas could not create a permanent bond. But he remembers that, in fact, a one-way mating mark is possible between alphas and omegas. And he’s suddenly considering the consequences of such a thing.
He’s heard only rumors, which race through his mind as Cloud’s tongue laps at his neck. A one-way bite gives the unmarked partner a measure of control of the other—for as long as they live or until the mark is reciprocated. The pretty blonde prince is cruel, he knows—but even he can’t be considering the permanence of such an action, can he?
Cloud is very gentle and doesn’t bite, and he smells so good. Even though Sephiroth is unable to move, he can’t repress the soft, almost whimper escaping his lips. Despite the horror, arousal and desire overpower him and send blood rushing to Sephiroth’s cock.
“You're such a good boy for me. And you’ll behave tonight, won’t you?”
Sephiroth only grunts in response, as his mouth won’t form words. And then Cloud shifts. He straightens up, loosens his own high collar, and leans his head to the side, exposing his own scent gland. Sephiroth catches a glimpse of it—wet and shimmering in the room’s low light. It’s still odd to see how moist omega scent glands are in comparison to his own. Cloud grabs Sephiroth’s nape and pulls him close.
“Go ahead. Kiss it. Lick it. Taste me.”
And Sephiroth obeys. His fangs pop out—much more slowly under the stop spell, but Cloud stays in control. He rubs his gland all over Sephiroth’s nose. Saliva spills from Sephiroth’s mouth, and his whole body shudders—even under the spell—as if straining toward this omega and wanting nothing more than to sink his fangs into that delicate, exposed flesh. The feeling is unlike anything Sephiroth has experienced before: the intense sexual longing, the feral need to breed, the desire to fuck this pretty omega until he can’t walk.
Sephiroth’s vision blurs around the edges, and he feels faint. Cloud’s hand drops to Sephiroth’s erection, now nearly splitting the seams of the thong. Cloud shamelessly grabs his hard cock through the soft silk and strokes—long, slow, and relentless. An unearthly growl leaks from Sephiroth’s throat, and Cloud shivers in response.
“There you are... Now you’re perfect.”
Cloud steps back and refastens his collar, smoothing his hair in the mirror. Then he touches Sephiroth’s collar to dispel the stop spell and casts slow. Giving the leash a little tug, he pulls Sephiroth to his feet and examines him from head to toe. He fusses with Sephiroth’s hair and the chains draped around his body before returning them both to the hall.
The next event is a formal dinner. The dining room is filled with guests, many who witnessed Sephiroth’s punishment last week. But Sephiroth couldn’t care less. Through the slow spell, he fights to maintain his usual elegance and grace to follow Cloud to his seat like an obedient pet.
It irks him. Sephiroth is not used to playing such a role—but he’s had a week to consider his options. He’s already committed. He needs to get Cloud to trust him, and that means putting up with this immature, subservient bullshit for the time being.
Andrea said he would serve Cloud at dinner, but Cloud has other ideas. There’s a navy velvet cushion on the floor next to the head of the table, where Cloud’s fancy seat is.
“Be a good boy and sit.” The order comes across as an order to a beloved dog, but Sephiroth bites his tongue and obeys.
All the dinner guests have watched his entry, many exclaiming about his beauty and grace—and the size of him—and oh my, can you imagine? The looks and comments unnerve him, though he was quite popular back in Midgar. He’d never had a lack of admirers. These guests, however, gaze at and comment specifically about his body, musculature, and build. No one would dare make open comments like these when he was a prince. So Sephiroth tunes out all the noise, paying attention only to Cloud. That’s the best choice since it pleases Cloud and reminds Sephiroth of his goal.
Cloud feeds him small morsels from his plate with his fingers—and again, it only enforces the position Sephiroth finds himself in. But this is not his doing. It’s not even Cloud’s fault. This is all Hojo. Sephiroth just needs to be patient. If he could tolerate all those years under Hojo’s torturous hands, he can handle this, too.
Effusive with praise, Prince Cloud acts like Sephiroth is and always has been his most favored pet. The dinner conversation is casual. Occasionally, Sephiroth’s ears perk up at the mention of “rut” and “heat,” but he doesn’t want to know. While his mind picks up on the words, he can’t address that right now. Tonight, he takes one minute at a time.
Between courses, the regent, Randolph Shinra, climbs to his feet and walks the length of the table to approach Cloud. He takes a long, hard look at Sephiroth, examining him. The man is older and heavy-set, not a trace of Rufus’s grace in him. Shinra cups Sephiroth’s chin to encourage him to meet his gaze. Sephiroth does, struggling not to resist, though something discomforting is in the way the man examines him.
“Hmm. It’s odd how like your eyes are to the former prince. Is it true you’ve had similar mako treatments?”
“Yes, sir,” Sephiroth grits out, but he straightens his spine and returns the old man’s wandering eyes with a glare. A revolting sense of disgust lingers in the air at the man’s touch.
“Your hair is certainly unique. Aside from His Highness’s, um, excessively warm welcome, how have you been settling in?”
“He’s fine,” Cloud snaps. “As you can see, he is unharmed.”
“Well, he heals quickly.” Shinra runs his fingers down Sephiroth’s jaw and neck, sending another wave of revulsion through him. “Listen, Sephiroth, perhaps you’ve noticed. His Highness is in the midst of a very trying period right now—he is hormonal, emotional, and confused.”
Sephiroth glances at Cloud, whose face flushes with anger. Shit, if only rage didn’t look so pretty on his face. Sephiroth doesn’t speak and continues to listen.
“You, as an alpha, have a unique opportunity to support him during this difficult time. I understand you have not had much experience with omegas due to their scarcity on your continent.”
Sephiroth tilts his head.
“I think young Prince Cloud needs a close… friend and confidante during this tumultuous time in his life.”
“What?!” Cloud growls.
“After the near diplomatic disaster of treating a prized pleasure slave hand-selected by King Hojo himself with such contempt, Cloud, I’m simply suggesting you take a step back from state affairs until all this,” Shinra waves his fingers in a dramatic gesture, indicating all of Cloud, “has taken its course. Surely, your experience can’t be that much more extreme than a woman’s.”
Cloud’s glare hardens, and the tension between him and the regent escalates. Sephiroth was led to believe that Cloud and Shinra had an amicable relationship, but this indicates a significant, older problem between them.
“I insist you keep him in your household and at your side, Cloud.”
“You have no right—”
“Oh, I do. It’s high time you have physical help for your condition once you finally go into heat. I have the council’s approval. You are excused from future council meetings until you’ve worked through whatever your first heat entails.”
The air pulses around them, and Cloud’s eyes crackle with rage, teeth clenched. But he purses his lips, restraining his speech.
“Once you two iron out your business, Midgar will resume peace negotiations. This slave is meant to be a peace offering. You may not treat such gestures with contempt. I’d like to see him take the place of a true pleasure slave rather than your palace whipping boy. You’re too old for such tantrums.”
Cloud trembles in his chair before he manages to pick up his wine and take a sip. He steadies himself and controls his breathing before he replies.
“As you wish.”
“I knew you’d understand. There’s a good boy, Cloud.”
The entire exchange baffles Sephiroth. According to what he’d learned, he considered the regent an ally to Nibelheim, a man who rules in Cloud’s place until he is old enough to take the throne. But the condescension between them rivals Sephiroth’s relationship with Hojo. He lets out a breath he doesn’t realize he is holding as soon as Shinra returns to his seat.
“Motherfucking son of a bitch,” Cloud mutters under his breath.
“Such rough language from such a pretty mouth,” slips out from Sephiroth’s lips, completely unbidden, along with a smirk he fails to withhold.
The remark surprisingly doesn’t earn him a slap, but Sephiroth is treated to a full blush from Cloud. The snark shocks Cloud out of his anger for a moment. Cloud no longer seems upset.
“Mind your place. Behave yourself. I have plans for you after dessert.”
After dessert is brought in, and Sephiroth has licked the cream from Cloud’s fingers in the most erotic way possible (enough to make Cloud gasp indecently at the touch), Cloud looks up and nods at Andrea Rhodea.
“Display him.”
Still under the slow spell, Sephiroth is lead from the dining room into the middle of a mostly empty ballroom next door. A pedestal waits in the center of the floor.
“Climb on up, darling,” Andrea coaxes.
Sephiroth grits his teeth, but he is not going to resist. He can’t afford to disobey. He needs to gain Cloud’s trust, he reminds himself. Perhaps Shinra’s plan for him to cooperate and get close to Cloud isn’t such a bad one. Sephiroth has a unique opportunity to learn strategic information about Nibelheim while he’s here. Surely, that’s the priority. Helping Cloud through his first heat is just a bonus—it’s not his focus. It’s really not.
“Kneel up, pet.”
His delicate outfit jingles as he brings himself to a kneel. While he has experience with humiliation and has lost his sense of shame when it comes to nudity, being displayed in such pretentious lingerie is too much. He feels more exposed than if he were naked. But he will tolerate it to get on Cloud’s good side. He is curious about what sort of entertainment he will be expected to provide.
Andrea removes the sandals from Sephiroth’s feet and leaves them beneath the drape of the pedestal.
“That’s good. You can relax up there for now, but I’ll need you to sit up nice and pretty with your wrists cuffed once the guests have finished dinner. I’m sorry, handsome, but you’ll probably be stiff by the end of the evening. I promise we’ll massage out any discomfort once we’re finished here.”
The doors open, and about a dozen servants enter. Once every pair of eyes has ogled him, Andrea waves his hands and orders them to work.
Half arrange chairs around the sides of the room, and the other half carry around rolls of silver silk ribbon. First, Andrea ties ribbons to Sephiroth’s handcuffs, his ankle cuffs, and his collar. Each is laid out on the floor. His assistants then begin threading additional lengths from one side of the room to the other, fanning out like a star around the pedestal. All of the ribbons, except the ones attached to him, are wound around the pedestal’s base.
Next, each of the servants takes two ribbons and weaves them into a pattern. Like a maypole, Sephiroth thinks as he watches them work. Andrea continues to direct them as though he’s choreographing a dance.
Once they finish, no one can tell which ribbons lead to him or the other side of the room. As he’s watching, a sense of dread fills Sephiroth’s stomach. He isn’t afraid, per se, but he’s starting to realize he is the prize of this game.
The staff adds charms to the ends of the ribbons so the entire display looks lovely. But Sephiroth finds himself in the middle of it—sitting here, clad in skimpy silk lingerie barely big enough to contain him, draped with pearls, crystals, charms, and chains. In some ways, a flogging would be preferable. At least with punishments, he knows what to expect.
Once the tables at the end of the room are set with fancy cocktails and champagne, the musicians enter. Each one also stops and stares at Sephiroth, looks of admiration mixed with fear on their faces. Andrea shoos them away and encourages them to set up before returning to Sephiroth.
“Now, my dear, we will get you into position. I’ll use a spell to help keep you in place and prevent exhaustion. Put your wrists behind your back, will you?”
Sephiroth obeys, even as his nerves bubble up inside. A soft click sounds in his ears, and his wrists are cuffed loosely behind his back, resting just above his ass.
“I suspect you’re strong enough to break these bonds, even with a slow spell, so I appreciate your cooperation. Spread your legs a little?”
Sephiroth obeys, and Andrea attaches his left wrist to his left ankle with a length of delicate chain. When he looks down at it, Andrea just smiles.
“I know. They are just for looks. The prince wants you pretty. I hear you’ve calmed down a bit since you first arrived?” Andrea continues to bind Sephiroth’s right wrist and ankle with another chain.
Sephiroth clears his throat. Andrea offers him water from a glass, and he takes a short sip through a straw. The cold water soothes his sore throat.
“Yes, sir.”
“Zack told me the prince flogged you unconscious.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Well, it seems you’ve learned from that experience. The regent was displeased with the prince’s harsh treatment of you, but I hear the guards are rooting for you. You’ll be on your best behavior tonight, won’t you?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good. I don’t want to have you muzzled. The guests will want to admire your fangs.” After a few moments of fussing with Sephiroth’s costume, Andrea continues, “I’m ever so delighted to have had the opportunity to dress you. You hardly require any embellishment at all. You were an absolute pleasure to work with, and I’ll pass my compliments on to His Highness as well.”
“Thank you, sir.” Sephiroth dips his head.
The crystals and pearls threaded through his hair shimmer under the candlelight in the room. With a touch on his chin, he angles his head toward Andrea as requested.
“Perfect. You look like a dream. Now, do you need anything else? I will apply the stop spell next, but I don’t think you require silence.”
“No, sir.”
“Good. I am sure you will be very popular among the nobles here. No need to worry about your patronage. Stop. There. Gorgeous.”
As gorgeous as he is, Sephiroth is still unnerved by Andrea continuing to fidget with his hair and the jewels. The chains flow across his body like water. His hips are draped to accent his ass, he knows. He has nothing to be ashamed of, so why is he so uncomfortable?
The servants finish their work, and Andrea gives the room a final check. Then he claps his hands and says, “Let’s get the show started!”
The servants take their places, the musicians begin to play, and the doors are flung open. The guests arrive and exclaim in delight. Cloud comes to Sephiroth first, carefully avoiding the ribbons on the floor.
“There you are, such a good boy,” his soft voice rumbles in his throat. “Aren’t you so pretty?”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
Cloud seems a little taken aback that Sephiroth can speak, and he looks displeased.
“Hmm. Well, one more thing to get you just right…”
Cloud leans up on his toes and gives Sephiroth’s scent gland a fresh nibble. He licks and noses at the exposed skin of his neck, and Sephiroth’s body tries to shudder through the stop spell. His cock floods immediately with fresh arousal—the blood rushing so fast to his groin that it makes him light-headed. Gaia, Cloud’s teasing makes Sephiroth feel like an inexperienced, horny teenager!
“There,” Cloud whispers, letting his hand trail down the chains on Sephiroth’s chest, across his abs, and directly to the front of the silk underwear. He fiddles with the silk so gently, but Sephiroth feels every teasing touch, sending more blood to his cock.
The guests are all looking at Sephiroth expectantly, and their voices fill his ears as they approach. No one other than Cloud and the regent put hands on him in the dining hall, but now, it’s open season.
“Finally, a chance to see Prince Cloud’s new alpha slave close up!”
“Do you think he’s dangerous? Look at those fangs!”
“Gods, he’s huge—is this a normal size of alpha?”
“Not just his body, but look at that delicious cock! Do you suppose they really have knots? Sounds so interesting to try!”
“Look at his hair!”
“His eyes are more stunning!”
The guests take turns touching him, caressing his ass, his shoulders, his chest, his back, his thighs, and even his erection is groped through his underwear. The chains tinkle like a cat’s bell when they run their fingers down his arms. A few guests recklessly shove their fingers into his mouth to admire his fangs.
The familiarity and casualness of this assault on his person are overwhelming. Sephiroth is thankful for the stop spell, but he wishes he’d been silenced as well. Holding back his growl is harder than expected. Back in Midgar, it was a privilege to touch him. No one would dare feel him up openly. This is simply degrading.
Suppressed shudders crawl across his skin along with goosebumps as fingers and palms trail up and down his body. At first, he boldly glares at those who toy with his nipple piercings and squeeze his pecs. But as the hands grow more intimate—stroking down the length of his spine to his ass and groping his cock and thighs—Sephiroth’s confidence starts to slip away. He doesn’t want to look these people in the eye. It’s humiliating in a way he doesn’t know. He feels powerless and vulnerable, more so than he ever has in his life.
After the initial shock of being openly groped by a group of nobles, Sephiroth settles down and to numb himself. He’s helpless to do anything else. He’s going to put up with this treatment—he is supposed to be a pleasure slave, after all—and Prince Cloud is going to help him.
And so, Sephiroth makes an effort to locate Cloud in the room. He appears within Sephiroth’s field of vision, and Sephiroth narrows his eyes. The mako burns hot and bright with the intensity of his gaze, and he watches Cloud respond. Sephiroth can smell his own scent, and he manages to project it across the room toward Cloud. The other guests notice, too, but it seems to affect Cloud the most.
Cloud shifts on his feet, not able to find a comfortable position to put his hands. They fidget uncharacteristically, from resting on his hips to crossing his arms across his chest. He even tries to turn away to force Sephiroth to break his gaze, but Cloud can’t help himself either. Fortunately for Sephiroth, Cloud’s excitement is more than obvious in his tight leather pants. He’s so aroused that he turns his body toward the wall, but the leather just stretches out even more tightly across his lovely round ass.
So much for dressing conservatively.
The other guests are of all sexes and genders. Sephiroth’s senses pick up on the scent of other omegas, but none smell as tempting as Cloud. Good, he thinks. Cloud’s pleasant scent, look, and feel will make bonding a little easier.
Shinra takes another opportunity to examine Sephiroth as well, and he grabs Sephiroth’s chin to encourage Sephiroth to meet his gaze.
“I meant what I said, Sephiroth,” Shinra murmurs, his voice uncannily neutral. “Look at the poor boy. He needs an alpha. Male omegas are rare even in Nibelheim, and he doesn’t know what to do. You can tell, can’t you?”
Sephiroth doesn’t reply, but after a few moments, Shinra continues.
“He’s close. The plan he has in store for you? I am sure it will induce in his first heat. You are ideal to help him through it. I expect you to occupy his time appropriately. I’ve been told you won’t be able to help yourself, and Gaia knows that boy needs a good lay. It will humble him. Consider it a service to me, to make him a bit more malleable.”
Sephiroth doesn’t respond and once again meets Cloud’s gaze. He guesses the man is probably right. Sephiroth is already having a hard time with Cloud’s teasing. He feels unhinged around the prince—a suppressed shudder crawls up Sephiroth’s neck when he recalls the nibbles against his neck. Cloud’s lips are so soft.
Eventually worn out from being the center of attention and exhausted from all the admiration and touching, Sephiroth tunes the world out until Andrea claps his hands to get the guests’ attention.
“Now, everyone—let’s play a little game! You’ve all had a chance to get to know Prince Cloud’s latest addition. His Highness is offering you the opportunity of a lifetime. In a day or two, this gorgeous alpha will go into rut. You can be one of five guests to have the opportunity to experience this yourself or watch your slave take part.”
When the guests all murmur in delight, the realization of what is about to happen hits him like a freight train. From Andrea’s announcement, Sephiroth is going to be rented out once he goes into rut. Rented out like a cheap whore.
Yes, Sephiroth knows he is serving as a pleasure slave in Nibelheim—and he can’t deny he’s highly attracted to Cloud. But being treated like this, like a prized stallion to be studded out to the winners of a silly party game? Ridiculous! He’s the crown prince of Midgar! Revulsion pulses through his body at the thought of sharing his rut with any stranger—let alone a group of five strangers! And not when Cloud, this gorgeous little virgin omega, is right there and ripe for the taking!
Is this really how Nibelheim treats its pleasure slaves?! Corporal punishment would definitely be preferable to this!
Andrea directs the guests to choose a ribbon. Most of the guests participate, and Cloud simply observes.
He doesn’t look happy—though Sephiroth is sure this was his idea. It’s almost amusing watching Cloud fidget, checking who is lining up for a chance to have sex with an alpha. His alpha is what Cloud’s face seems to say. His cute, pouty lips are tilted down in a frown.
Andrea chooses a guest behind Sephiroth to go first. One at a time, each guest follows their ribbon to its endpoint. Sephiroth ignores the soft tugs at his ankles, then at his collar, then at his wrists. He ignores the shrieks of delight when someone wins. It’s been so long since Sephiroth’s last rut, and the guests have no idea what they are getting themselves into. Apparently it wasn’t enough for Sephiroth to be concerned about his rut. Now he has to worry about strangers getting involved!
That’s fine, Sephiroth thinks. He only wants Cloud. And it seems Cloud is still annoyed. A possessive little glare sparkles in his eyes. However, once all the attached ribbons have been discovered, Cloud fixes his face and puts on a magnanimous expression.
“Congratulations,” he says to the five winners. The guests are still delighted and excited. “We have accommodations for you here at the palace since his rut will start within 24-48 hours. Once you’ve enjoyed yourself at the party, our servants will show you to your quarters. We will let you know when the slave’s rut has started.”
The specific time takes Sephiroth aback. How would Cloud know when Sephiroth’s rut would hit—unless details about the last time he took suppressants were taken into consideration? It does feel about right, but he lost a few days during his recovery.
“Thank you for joining me and celebrating this precious gift from the King of Midgar,” Cloud says, taking a little bow. The guests applaud his generosity, but still… Sephiroth notices Cloud does not seem happy. “Andrea, that will be all for him tonight.”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
“Bring him to His Highness’s quarters,” Shinra, still standing close to Cloud, interrupts quietly. Sephiroth looks up at Cloud at the suggestion.
“That won’t be necessary—” Cloud hisses.
“Nonsense, my boy. You need to get to know him, become familiar with him, and start the bonding process. He will be staying in your rooms and sleeping in your chamber until I decide otherwise. Of course, you can enjoy your little game once his rut starts.” Shinra smiles at Sephiroth but addresses Cloud. “But until then and afterward, you are both confined to your quarters until you get a handle on your hormones.”
Cloud looks more offended at the regent’s suggestion than he ever has with Sephiroth. For some reason, Cloud doesn’t hide his hostility toward Shinra like he does with others. It piques Sephiroth’s curiosity and distracts him from his impending studding session.
In any case, Andrea touches Sephiroth’s collar, dispelling stop and allowing him to relax. As the ribbons are untied, Sephiroth watches Cloud skulk around the room, trying to adjust his attitude and look pleased to be sharing his latest acquisition with the other nobles.
Soon, Zack approaches and takes the leash from Andrea.
“You did good, buddy,” Zack assures him. “You really behaved yourself—and man, you’re popular!”
“Hmm.”
With that, Zack leads him out of the ballroom. Sephiroth feels Cloud’s gaze burning against his back and shoulders.