Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

He wipes sweat out of his eyes with the back of his arm and sits down on an outcropping of rock with a heavy sigh. The tip of his buster sword gouges into the dirt at his feet as he lets his sword arm fall slack, the muscles trembling a little with fatigue. He flexes the hated, leathery black wing that sprouts from his back and tucks it back under his cloak. How many of the creatures has there been this time? Twenty? Fifty? He’d been moving too fast to count. Doesn’t even know which kind of heartless they’d been, and doesn’t care. It’s twenty or fifty more not walking this world anymore.

His body tenses when he becomes aware of a sound. A slow, steady smack, smack, smack coming from somewhere nearby. He launches himself to his feet and whirls, hand tightening on the hilt of his sword. His face darkens with anger when he sees who it is. The tall, muscular body sits on another rock formation about thirty feet away, a teasing smile on the exquisitely beautiful face while black gloved hands slowly give him a round of applause.

“Sephiroth,” he growls.

“It’s such a pleasure to watch you in action, I just couldn’t resist,” says his hated enemy with a wider smile.

“Did you ever think of maybe helping or something?” Cloud doesn’t know why he even asks. Just to poke at the bastard, he guesses. Sephiroth laughs, a sound that sends a chill down Cloud’s spine.

“Why would I want to do that? I have no interest in those vermin. You are the one who has taken a personal interest in this fight, one which isn’t even yours.”

“I’ve made it mine,” spits Cloud angrily. “I’ll help get rid of all the darkness in this place!”

“Interesting,” muses Sephiroth, standing up and strolling casually closer. Cloud swings the tip of his sword to track the other man’s progress, but Sephiroth ignores it. “So you’ll be getting rid of yourself too in the end, will you?”

“Shut up,” snaps Cloud. “When I’ve gotten rid of all the darkness, I’ll be rid of you. You and all your minions.”

Sephiroth sighs and shakes his head.

“I’m afraid you’re mistaken, you poor boy. The heartless have nothing to do with me. I’m here because you are.”

“So you’re just a creepy stalker,” sneers Cloud. Sephiroth smiles again, and something dark seems to flash through his greenish-blue eyes, the slit pupils dilating for a moment, then narrowing again.

“You misunderstand me,” he says softly, taking a few steps closer. Cloud lifts his blade to block his approach, but Sephiroth slaps it casually away. He’s close now. Too close. Close enough for Cloud to smell the leather he wears, to see every ripple of muscle in his pale chest and stomach. “I didn’t follow you here. I exist here because you do. Because we’re joined. And you,” he leans in, so close now that Cloud can feel his breath, that their lips would touch if either of them moved another inch, “know it.”

“All I know is that you’re full of shit,” Cloud mutters sullenly. “Back off. You’re way too close.”

Sephiroth chuckles...and moves that final inch. His lips brush Cloud’s in a teasing, ghost of a kiss. Cloud’s body seems to go cold all over for a moment, then his skin flushes with heat. He feels like he’s burning up all over. His face blazing with anger and embarrassment, he shoves Sephiroth away and grips his buster sword with both hands, shouting with rage and swinging it in a wide, sweeping arc designed to sever the bastard’s head neatly from his body.

That’s not what happens. Masamune is suddenly just there , blocking his stroke. Their blades lock and metal screams on metal, electricity seeming to crackle and arc between them, red and blue tangling together. Just like we do , thinks Cloud inanely, and immediately is furious with himself for thinking it. Angrily, he spins and attacks again. His wing snaps out from under his cloak and spreads wide, lending him balance and strength. Sephiroth’s elegantly feathered wing mirrors his own as the other man laughs and counters him again. Why the fuck does he always seem to show up AFTER I’ve been in a major battle? He wonders, panting as he attempts a feint to get under Sephiroth’s guard and his enemy sees right through it.

They clash and counter, feint and attack, block and slash at one another across the rubble. Sephiroth’s movements are graceful, almost casual. It makes Cloud even angrier, that the other man isn’t even taking him seriously.

“Stop being an asshole and fight me,” he roars, charging Sephiroth as fast as he can. Sephiroth pivots to the side at the last second and Cloud stumbles past him. There’s a hot, stinging pain across the seat of his leather pants as he does.

“You’re tired,” says Sephiroth in an infuriatingly calm voice. “I’m not going to take you seriously in this condition. Just yield, Cloud. You can’t beat me.”

“Did you just smack me on the ass with your sword?” cries Cloud, outraged. Sephiroth smirks.

“You are having a temper tantrum. That’s how I deal with children who belong to me when they misbehave. By punishing them.”

Cloud growls angrily, studiously ignoring the way his belly tightens at Sephiroth’s ridiculous words. Not that he hasn’t been a lot more intimately acquainted with how creative Sephiroth can be with his ideas of discipline in the past than he’s ever wanted to be. I haven’t, he insists in his mind. I haven’t wanted to be.

“I’m not having a temper tantrum,” he snarls through gritted teeth. “I’m going to fucking kill you.” He attacks again, and Sephiroth parries again.

“No you’re not,” counters Sephiroth in amusement. “You can’t kill me, Cloud. I’m a part of you, just as you’re a part of me. Our darkness is the same darkness. You are my darkness. You’re mine. You’re being very tiresome, and my patience is wearing thin. You’re exhausted, and no match for me.” Cloud hates that he’s right, hates that Sephiroth is refusing to take advantage of his weakness to kill him, the way he tells himself he’d do if the situations were reversed.

“Fuck you,” he howls, leaping into the air, his wing flexing and pumping to give him lift. The muscles in his arms quiver with fatigue as he raises his blade above his head, bringing it down on Sephiroth with all his strength. Sephiroth doesn’t move to dodge the blow, but meets it, Masamune in one hand. He binds Cloud’s blade and flings his arm out. Fingers numbed by the impact, Cloud loses his grip and his sword goes flying. Sephiroth’s free hand seems to almost casually grip him by the front of his coat, whereupon he uses Cloud’s own momentum to hurl him bodily into a tall rock formation. He slams against it, desperately contorting his body midair so he can take most of the impact on his back and shoulder on his right side. It knocks all the air out of his lungs and he slumps to the ground, his mouth working helplessly as he struggles to gasp for breath.

Then Masamune is at his throat, resting lightly against his skin. Sephiroth stands over him, staring down with an impassive expression on his heartbreakingly lovely face.

“You instinctively protected your wing,” he comments idly. “Why could that be, I wonder.”

Cloud glares at the ground in front of him, refusing to look up at the man towering over him. He refuses to dignify the question with an answer too. Masamune slides up his throat until the blade is tucked under his chin, exerting pressure upwards. Sephiroth’s control of it is effortless. His arm is steady, and the blade never wavers, despite its incredible length. Cloud is forced to look up at him if he doesn’t want his skin to be split open.

“I don’t know,” he mutters angrily. Sephiroth’s mouth curls up on one side.

“Little liar,” he whispers. “You protect it because it is a part of you. Part of your darkness. And a reflection of me. You shouldn’t lie, puppet. Not to me, and not to yourself. Bad things happen to little boys who tell lies.”

Cloud shudders at these words. Damn the man to hell, that he can do this to Cloud. There is no one who knows the darker secrets of Cloud’s desires. No one but this man.

“I hate you,” he hisses furiously. Sephiroth’s smile only widens.

“You only think you hate me because of that which you pretend to hate within yourself. When are you going to be honest with yourself? You’re a better fighter when you use the darkness in yourself. Dark and light...one can’t really exist without the other. It’s part of why you can’t resist me, and why I can’t stay away from you. My darkness calls to you. Your darkness brings me back, time and time again. And more than that…. Look at me, boy.” His cool voice sharpens, cracks like a whip and Cloud can’t ignore it. His eyes snap back to Sephiroth’s face. “More than that,” continues Sephiroth calmly, “your light prevents me from being damned entirely.”

Cloud blinks at him in surprise. Is Sephiroth trying to be fucking romantic or something? What he’s saying can’t really be true. This stupid thing he has for the man, it’s just some kind of sickness. That’s all.

“You’re crazy,” he says, hating how his voice comes out a little too breathy and unsteady to be very convincing.

“Perhaps,” agrees Sephiroth with an easy shrug. “But that does not mean I’m wrong. Are you ready to yield now, foolish boy?”

“Never,” growls Cloud. Sephiroth laughs at him.

“Very well. More fun for me. You’ll recall I mentioned that the connection between light and dark is part of why you can’t resist me. I believe you’ll recall there’s another reason.”

“No,” whispers Cloud, trying to shake his head in negation, but Sephiroth presses the edge of his blade a little harder against his throat and he can’t, not unless he wants to bleed. Even if he does, he doesn’t want it that way.

“Yesss,” hisses Sephiroth. His eyes light up an unholy green, glowing, burning down at Cloud. He wants to look away, but he can’t. “Now get on your knees.”

And Cloud can’t resist, can’t refuse him. Fucking Jenova DNA. Masamune pulls back, and instead of rolling away and grabbing his sword where it’s fallen ten feet away or so the way he ought to, Cloud pushes slowly off the stone wall behind him and gets on his knees, his head bowed, cheeks burning with embarrassment. He doesn’t understand it, but there are times like this when he can’t fight it anymore. His stupid dick has been aching in his pants since the moment Sephiroth’s lips had brushed his. No , he thinks bitterly, be honest about this at least, since apparently we’re doing this. It’s since you heard him laugh. Since that little chill up your spine the moment you realized he was here, and you knew exactly what it meant. They don’t have a world to fight over here. Sephiroth’s not trying to destroy anything Cloud considers his to protect, not anymore. They fight when they meet because they fucking get off on it. And they only meet when Sephiroth wants something from him. Something he fights, because he has to, to preserve his own sanity, but something he wants just as desperately as he struggles against it. Things he dreams of night after night, dark things, twisted things that only this man can give him. Damn him.

“Good boy,” purrs Sephiroth. Masamune vanishes, as if he knows he won’t need it anymore. Not that he can’t summon it in an instant if Cloud does decide to rebel again. His fingers curl under the straps across Cloud’s chest, and he summons a portal through the Darkness, stepping into it and dragging his prey along for the ride.

They emerge into a dimly lit room. Cloud falls forward onto his hands when Sephiroth lets go of him, shuddering and gasping.

“Asshole,” he pants, “you know I hate that!”

“If you’d stop fighting who you are so hard, the Corridors wouldn’t be so hard on you,” comments Sephiroth placidly, leaning over a small table to light a candle. His back is to Cloud, but his voice lashes out, dangerous and cold with implicit threat. “If you get up off your knees before I give you permission, you’re not going to like what happens.”

Cloud glares at him, subsiding in the act of climbing to his feet to….well, he’s not sure what he’d been planning to do. Rush Sephiroth and try to strangle him? Run for the door? Tackle him and make him stop beating around the bush and just get on with it already? Sephiroth turns back to him and smiles. His hand gently cups Cloud’s cheek, his thumb brushing the younger man’s lips.

“Don’t pout, puppet. You’re already in enough trouble as it is.”

“Oh my god,” complains Cloud. “Fuck you.”

“Don’t hold your breath, lover ,” purrs Sephiroth, forcing his thumb into Cloud’s mouth. “My, you must really be desperate for punishment. You haven’t pushed this hard in quite some time.”

Cloud doesn’t respond. He can’t. All he can do is suck and lick helplessly at the leather-clad thumb in his mouth, saliva pooling as his belly tightens. Color flags his cheeks when Sephiroth presses his thumb against Cloud’s tongue and watches him knowingly.

“How shall I punish you tonight, I wonder. Any thoughts, naughty puppet?” He pulls his thumb out to give Cloud the ability to speak. Cloud looks up at him in confusion. “I asked you a question.”

“Yeah, I heard you...you’ve just...never fucking asked before.” This is not what they do. Sephiroth does not ask . He takes. And gives, reminds the traitorous voice in his head. Shut up, he tells it.

“You’ve never pushed this hard before,” says Sephiroth softly. Cloud frowns and tries to look away. This is not what he wants. Not kindness from this man. Not now, anyway. Not after the week Cloud’s had. He can’t really say why his brain is all tangled and won’t let him alone, why the darkness is so bad right now. Nothing specific has happened, that he’s aware of. Maybe it has something to do with whatever’s going on in that Sora kid’s fight against the Organization. He only knows he feels it, buzzing along the surface of his skin, tapping at him like ghostly fingers, all the time and he can’t seem to shut it off. He shakes his head in frustration.

“Fuck you ,” he says again, through his teeth. Sephiroth hums thoughtfully.

“I see,” he says quietly, and the hell of it is that Cloud thinks he actually does see. The hand stroking his face slides gently into his hair, slender fingers carding through the messy blond spikes. The fist he makes moments later makes Cloud’s eyes water. He yells out in pain as he’s yanked off the floor by his hair and thrown bodily all the way across the room to slam into another stone wall, this one man made (or by whatever passes for man wherever they are right now) and then bounces gracelessly onto a bed. He groans in pain and has to remember how to breathe yet again.

“Shit,” he gasps. He can practically feel the bruises forming. He looks up to find Sephiroth standing over him, slowly pulling his gloves off one finger at a time.

“Strip,” he snaps coldly. Cloud thinks about refusing. About forcing Sephiroth to make him do it. But the look in the other man’s eyes tells him this would probably be pushing his luck a little too far. Slowly, because he’s still a little stunned from being hurled against immovable surfaces twice in less than an hour, and because he also knows Sephiroth likes looking at his body, he starts to squirm and writhe his way out of his clothing. Because this thing they do, whatever anyone would call it, has finally begun, and because he’s too tired to fight Sephiroth anymore right now, he stays exactly where he’s been put, sprawled on the bed, even though it’s going to make actual stripping something of a challenge.

The leather coat is easy. He pulls his one arm free and rolls off it, shoving it off the bed onto the floor. He unbuckles the straps that cross his chest and just leaves them lying under him. After briefly sitting up to tug off his boots (which seems to be okay because Sephiroth doesn’t say or do anything about it), because he can’t get them off from a prone position, he lays back down and slowly tugs the hem of his shirt out of his pants. Sephiroth stands over him, his eyes tracking Cloud’s hands as he pulls it up, revealing taut, muscled flesh with every inch. Mako-enhanced eyes glitter with a hunger Cloud recognizes. His hips roll helplessly in response as he pulls the shirt the rest of the way off and tosses it away. His fingers tease his belt open, then toy with his fly. He closes his eyes and moans softly as the tug of the zipper going down rubs over his cock. Fuck, he’s so hard already. He lifts his ass off the bed, working pants and shorts off at the same time, inching them down. His erection springs free and he sighs.

“Tease,” murmurs Sephiroth softly. Cloud looks at him, and smirks a little. “You’ll pay for that too, I think.”

“Fuck,” whispers Cloud, pushing his pants down the rest of the way and kicking them off. Then he lays back and reaches up slowly, fingers curling around the wooden crosspiece of the headboard. Sephiroth shrugs off his coat, not taking his eyes off of his prey. It drops to the floor, leaving his torso bare save for the straps making an X across the fine marble of his skin. And no matter what kind of a bastard he is, no matter that most of the time Cloud wants to kill him (or wants to want to anyway), he has to admit that everything about Sephiroth’s body takes his breath away. He’s like a marble statue of a god. Made for sin, created by some demon poet with a generous hand and a very dirty mind. He unbuckles the thick belts covering his lower abdomen and kidneys and it falls to the floor with a thud and clashing of buckles, then his elegant fingers pause over the belt around his waist.

“It’s so loud inside your head tonight, isn’t it?” he asks in a low voice. Cloud’s eyes widen. His lips part, and he nods wordlessly. Gaia, he may hate it most of the time, but the bastard understands. Sephiroth nods back and very slowly draws his belt free, the leather hissing softly through the loops on his leather pants. “I think, then, nothing very elaborate or creative this time. I think, tonight...just pain.”

Cloud can’t hold back a small whimper of need when his belly clenches and his cock twitches at the words. He wants this. Goddess, he does. He knows he’s going to pay, and dearly, for it, but every now and then it’s just such a fucking relief not to have to pretend. Not to have to explain.

“Please,” he whispers. Sephiroth’s eyes flash victoriously.

“Turn over on your stomach, little boy,” he purrs. “You’ve been very, very bad.”

Cloud does it, choking back a soft whine that wants to tear from his throat, not sure whether it would mean terror or eagerness. He hisses when his aching cock makes contact with the well padded but slightly scratchy bedcover, shifting his hips to settle himself.

“Beautiful,” whispers Sephiroth. The usual soft, even baritone of his voice has gone rough, a growl underneath it that speaks of the dark lust he usually conceals beneath his typical mask of bored arrogance. Not that Cloud’s not familiar with the tone. He’s heard it before, too many times to count now, but never this soon. His breath catches in his throat as he reaches up and grabs the crosspiece again, knuckles whitening as he squeezes hard, the wood rough under his palms. Sephiroth chants something he can’t quite make out, but Cloud recognizes the pattern of an incantation. He exhales a startled curse when the wood ripples and becomes pliant under his hands. It writhes for a moment, dividing itself along the grain, rolling over his hands, almost as though it’s become liquid. Within seconds, it re solidifies, and his wrists are held firm, the wood sealed around them like a stockade of old. He yanks against it, because he has so, but it doesn’t budge. Sephiroth chuckles. Cloud’s skin pebbles at the sound. Oh Goddess, he’s in so much trouble.

“S-Sephiroth…” His voice contains a thread of panic, and he clamps his mouth shut over whatever else he’d been going to say, hating it.

“Shh,” whispers Sephiroth. “Don’t be afraid, puppet. Not for the wrong reason. I’ve bound you for one reason. I’m going to hurt you. You need it. You require it. But I don’t know how readily your body will be able to accept it. It’s your instinct to fight me, and believe me you exquisite creature, I hope you never stop. But tonight, if your instinct and your need cannot come to an accord, I may damage you in a way neither of us wants. I’ve simply removed some of your ability to struggle. I mean to hurt you, little puppet...not to let you hurt yourself.”

The panic backs off, to be replaced by a combination of confusion...because Sephiroth is being… solicitous...of him in a way he’s never been before, and Cloud doesn’t know what to do with that. But also heat. He can’t explain why he craves the exquisite torture this man inflicts on him. There are days he hates him for it….or rather, days he just hates him. But he can’t resist that sinister promise, Sephiroth’s voice almost a caress on his heated skin. He relaxes, releasing the strain of muscle, bone and sinew yanking against the magical imprisonment of his wrists, and sighs.

Then, the moment his body surrenders, his head laying down on the pillow, tension draining away, Sephiroth appears on top of him, arms and legs caging him, the heat of his body tingling over Cloud’s skin. He bites back an exclamation. Damn it, why does he always forget that the bastard can teleport? Sephiroth’s laugh is low and dark, trickling through his teeth and into Cloud’s brain like something forbidden and bittersweet. He moans softly when lips brush teasingly over his shoulders. Sephiroth’s tongue on his skin leaves goosebumps in its wake.

“I can taste it,” breathes his lover, his enemy, into his ear, making him shiver. “Taste the darkness in you, Cloud...it’s so sweet. It makes me want to eat. You. Up.” With that, his teeth sink into the joint where Cloud’s wing meets his shoulder. He cries out helplessly when the deep, bruising pressure sparks a response in nerves he hadn’t known existed. Cloud mostly does his best to ignore his wing, keeping it hidden under his coat except in battle. He never touches it, finding its leathery, batlike appearance obscene. He understands that it’s the counterpart to Sephiroth’s wing, but has always been bitterly ashamed of the difference between the two. Though Sephiroth’s wing is dark too, it is also beautiful, its feathers soft and graceful. As if Sephiroth is the angel to his own demon. In his worst moments, it makes him wonder which one of them is really the more consumed by darkness.

And so he’s never touched it. Dear merciful Goddess, he can’t breathe when Sephiroth’s fingers stroke lightly up the first joint in blatant contrast to the brutality of his teeth grinding into Cloud’s flesh. Sephiroth laughs, low and mean through his teeth. He opens his mouth and licks away some of the sting from his teeth, but doesn’t stop touching the wing. Cloud flexes and extends it, gasping when Sephiroth’s hand softly follows the flex, stroking out as far as he can reach along the top. His fingertips drift down over the rough, leathery membrane. It feels as though all the tiny capillaries in his wing’s surface swell with blood. Cloud chokes on whimpers, shuddering.

“Perhaps someday I’ll let you touch mine,” muses Sephiroth, amused.

“Fuck,” gasps Cloud. “Does it feel good to you too?”

“Turn your head,” Sephiroth says in reply. Cloud does his best, twisting his neck to look back at the man behind him. Sephiroth sits up, straddling Cloud’s ass. Slowly, gracefully, his wing extends. Then, his eyes pinned to Clouds, Sephiroth brings it down around them both. The feathers stroke up Cloud’s side. Their softness is exquisite against his heated skin, but he almost doesn’t notice, all his attention captured by the expression on Sephiroth’s face.

His eyes drift slowly closed and his perfectly sculpted lips part. He lets his head fall back a little and a shivering sigh escapes his mouth. Sephiroth caresses Cloud’s back with the tips of his feathers, the presses his wing against Cloud’s own, both of them extended so that all of one touches all of the other. Sephiroth’s teeth sink into his full bottom lip and he lets out a low, moaning growl. His hips roll, and his hand drifts down over his chest and the shifting of his abs. His fingers brush over the clearly defined ridge of his impressive erection which strains against the front of his pants, rubbing up and down its length. Cloud can’t look away. He stares, fascinated...transfixed...and starts a little when Sephiroth’s eyes suddenly snap open. Mako seems to swim and swirl in their depths, as it only does when he is either incredibly angry or incredibly turned on. He smiles, a wicked smile that makes Cloud’s breath catch, and stops touching himself, folding his wing back behind his back at the same time. Cloud feels a little dizzy when he realizes exactly how much power Sephiroth has just handed him in revealing this secret to him. Cloud keeps his wing hidden, but Sephiroth doesn’t. He suddenly envisions himself walking past his tormentor in the streets of Hollow Bastion, with people all around them, casually reaching out and stroking his hand over Sephiroth’s feathers as he passes. Oh yeah, that’s happening, he thinks. At least, as long as I can walk past him without getting into a fight with him. Maybe someday, it’ll even give me the upper hand.

“Don’t count on it,” growls Sephiroth, his smile widening.

“How did you..” Cloud’s gleeful thoughts vanish, his body feeling as though it’s been doused with ice water. No, there’s no way. He can not read my mind!

“Do you honestly still think I’m speaking metaphorically when I say that I exist here because of you, that you’re a part of me? I know exactly what I’d be thinking in your place, and I know you. You can’t hide what you’re thinking from me very well, Cloud...you never have.”

As he finishes speaking, he stand up, picking up his belt from where he’d left it draped over the foot of the bed a few minutes ago. His fingers close around the buckle and he wraps the leather a couple of times around his fist.

“I think we’ve played long enough, my naughty puppet. Are you ready to be punished?”

Cloud swallows hard. This is what he’s here for, after all. The agony and ecstasy Sephiroth forces on him with ruthless precision, ripping down the walls Cloud builds between himself and his own thoughts and emotions, often the only thing that will drive back the noise in his brain so that he can remember who he is again. Not the somehow terrifying kindness Sephiroth has shown him tonight, not gentle touches and revealing personal information. He tugs once against the post that traps his hands, to ensure himself that it won’t budge, and nods shortly.

Fire blooms in a neat line across his shoulder, almost before he finishes the nod.

“HAH!” It startles the sound out of him, and he seethes a little with resentment. Sneaky bastard. He never gives Sephiroth the satisfaction of his voice this early in the proceedings.

“You said you were ready,” Sephiroth says innocently. Cloud growls and lays his forehead against the pillow, refusing to respond. But oh Gaia, he knows Sephiroth has never struck him so hard before. Sephiroth’s punishments are endlessly creative and always painful. Sometimes they’re purely sexual in nature, like the time the asshole had snapped a cock ring on him, made Cloud choke on his cock until tears had poured down his face, then fucked him off and on for several hours without letting him come. Another time he’d tied Cloud up with his hands over his head in the middle of a room and covered most of his body with deep, teeth-shaped bruises, telling him over and over how he was marking Cloud as his property. When he’d slowly but steadily bitten down on the rock hard shaft of Cloud’s cock, he’d screamed in agony while coming like a freight train down Sephiroth’s throat. He’s spanked Cloud like a child, made him fuck himself with an uncomfortably large dildo until he was so overstimulated he’d cried, and whipped his back and ass with a stinging flogger against a heavy wooden cross until Cloud had slumped in his bonds from exhaustion.

But this…. Goddess ...he flinches when the leather lights up a matching line of pain on his other shoulder...this is more intense than any of those things had been. Like Sephiroth wasn’t lying when he said he understood that Cloud’s worse this time. Because even as his body tenses in excruciating pain, as he grits his teeth and refuses to show Sephiroth how much it hurts, a part of him is exultant because it is exactly what he needs. He also realizes he has cause to be thankful to Sephiroth, both for his skill and his apparent unwillingness to cause Cloud too much pain, considering what he’d shown the younger man about his wing before commencing with thrashing the hell out of him, because Sephiroth never strikes his wing, or its joint in the middle of his shoulder blade. He decides he doesn’t want to think about what this reveals about Sephiroth. Of course, by the time his brain sorts out these few things, he loses the ability to think at all.

The leather licks tongues of flame all over his back, covering his shuddering skin with thick welts. His blood throbs along with his heart in every single one, as though it’s been brought just to the surface, almost to the point of weeping from Cloud’s body. He feels a drop of sweat roll down his spine, stinging like crazy when it comes into contact with one of the marks. The muscles in his arms tremble and his jaws ache with the effort of holding in the sounds that want to spill from his lips, but he can’t just give in. He’s been fighting Sephiroth for too long to be able to do that. It feels like centuries sometimes. Maybe it has been. Maybe they just keep doing this over and over again in one way or another; death and rebirth, victory and defeat, light and dark… pain and pleasure.

He fights it because he must, because it is coded into him as surely as the Mako on his blood and Jenova’s DNA in his genes that give the man granting him this exquisite torture some measure of power over him. He can’t deny it, because Sephiroth has the ability to bring him to his knees with a word when he really tries, but part of him will always fight it. Sephiroth will tell him sometimes that he should just surrender, but he doesn’t think that’s what the man really wants. He thinks Sephiroth would be disappointed if Cloud submitted to him easily. And Cloud knows that if he did, if it came easily to him, if Sephiroth didn’t have to really work for it, then none of it would be able to give him what he ultimately needs from it. It’s because he fights with all his will that Sephiroth is able to break through his barriers and that Cloud’s head will be peaceful again when they’re done. His eyes water with the strain of holding back from voicing his torment, but he’s not crying.

The strap lashes across his ass and his spine arches as the pain lances to his core. That’s when Sephiroth starts talking to him, and Cloud knows it’s only a matter of time now.

“Exquisite,” whispers Sephiroth, laying into his ass again, and again. “You are so beautiful in your suffering. Why must you fight me? Why must you fight what you need?”

CRACK

The pain is almost incandescent, something he sees as a pure, white light behind his tightly closed eyelids. Purifying in its simplicity. He wonders inanely how Sephiroth would feel about that. He wonders how he feels about accepting it from a man such as this. Could Sephiroth be right, that you can’t have one without the other? Nah, he’s fucking crazytown, remember? Except he seems a lot less crazy here. Especially now.

CRACK

“You should see yourself. So pretty. Let go, puppet.”

He wants to. Oh, he does. But it isn’t quite enough. He grits his teeth and looks over his shoulder at Sephiroth.

“Nuh...not….y-your...puh...puppet,” he gasps.

CRACK

Sephiroth laughs softly.

“Open your legs.” His voice is quiet, but it’s not a request.

“No...oh, no,” whimpers Cloud. Even as he knows perfectly well he’s going to obey.

“Do it.”

“ NOT your PUPPET, ” Cloud yells. Damn you , he thinks, dizzy with need and pain. See ME. Me, not a thing to be played with. Sephiroth is quiet for so long Cloud starts to worry he’s actually managed to piss the man off. That’s surprisingly hard to do, which makes it terrifying. But then…

“Cloud. Open your legs.”

A tiny sob escapes his lips as he does it. Since he can’t support his weight on his arms, shifting his legs apart grinds his hips into the mattress, the wool blanket rubbing against his cock, which is harder than ever, slick against his belly as it weeps for what comes after. After he breaks. No , says the voice in his head that is both more honest than he is and also more annoying, tell the truth. After you submit.

The leather in Sephiroth’s hand kisses cruelly at his thighs, curling around to lick soft skin. That, combined with his name on Sephiroth’s lips, is too much for him to fight. He cries out in pain, the muscles of his inner thighs quivering with his desire to close them. But he won’t.

“Good boy.” Sephiroth’s voice is gentle, in direct contrast to the strap he wields, descending again and again. “So good for me. Give me your voice now. It hurts so much, doesn’t it? You’ve gotten yourself into such a state. Why did you make me come to you, foolish boy? I’m the only one who can do this for you. The only one who understands. I’ll drive the darkness back for you, Cloud. Every time you need me to.”

Cloud blinks through the tears that well up in his eyes, shock at Sephiroth’s words cutting through the rising haze in his brain. He does know.

“AHH!” He gives voice to his pain again, and it’s such a relief to do it finally.

“You don’t have to fear the darkness,” Sephiroth continues. “You use it. You’re stronger because of it. You’re so blind. Why can’t you understand? I exist because of you. For you. To embrace the dark you can’t. I’ll take all of it. All you can’t contain. Give it to me. Don’t you see? The light in you keeps me sane in this world. Mother can’t reach me here. There’s only you. I’ll swallow all the dark that chokes you. All you have to do it let it go. ”

Faced with words such as these, what else can he do? Cloud lets go. Sobs shake his body, and he wails in pain when the leather cracks against his skin again. Dimly, through his tears, he hears Sephiroth moan quietly through closed lips. He howls the next time the strap dips between his thighs. Oh Gaia, the noise in his brain is fading. His tears are as much relief as pain. He can feel Sephiroth’s eyes on him, watching keenly. Waiting. He always knows when Cloud’s had enough. The moment when pain becomes something else, when Cloud surrenders, when what Sephiroth gives him is enough. He’d thought of it as what Sephiroth does to him, takes from him, for a long time, but he’d been wrong. He understands now. Recognizes it for the gift it is. Sephiroth will always be a creature of darkness, but because he is...Cloud doesn’t have to be.

The last tenuous barrier in his mind snaps, and he’s free. He hears the quiet thud of Sephiroth’s belt hitting the floor. Tears roll unchecked down his face, but he doesn’t hurt anymore. The silk of Sephiroth’s hair slides over his skin. He shudders. Sephiroth’s breath on his cheek wrings a soft whine from his throat. The tip of his tongue captures a tear and he hums softly.

“So sweet,” he whispers.

“Se...Seph…” sighs Cloud.

“What is it?”

“I...want you…” It doesn’t feel bitter to admit it this time. Does he imagine it that he hears Sephiroth’s breath catch when he says it? Has to be. Sephiroth licks his way down Cloud’s body, his tongue tracing the marks he’s placed there, his lips soft on the spots that make Cloud hiss.

“I can taste the pain I’ve given you,” he breathes the words against Cloud’s wing joint.

“Ngh!”

Sephiroth’s teeth scrape over the exact spot where Cloud’s skin gives way to black leathery skin. Cloud moans helplessly, then gasps when a slippery finger works between the cheeks of his ass. It stings in the welts, but Cloud doesn’t care. His hips rock as the finger rubs gently around his asshole.

“Damn it,” pants Cloud. Sephiroth laughs, his warm breath gusting over Cloud’s wing joint, and shoves two fingers inside him. “Ah!”

“Better?”

“Fuck me.”

“I’d have you scream for me. Will you?” wonders Sephiroth, fucking him way too slowly with his fingers.

“I don’t know,” Cloud says, practically drooling with want. “Are you gonna stop talking and do it or not?” Sephiroth’s laugh at this is one he’s never heard before. It sounds...surprised. Pleased. Honest. Of course, by this point, Cloud’s dick has been hard for a couple of hours and he doesn’t care anymore about epiphanies, he just really wants to come. The fingers are withdrawn, and he wonders if whoever’s bed this is will care when he bites all the fucking way through their sheets.

But then Sephiroth’s weight settles over him, pressing his body down into the mattress. The head of his cock nestles against Cloud’s twitching hole. It’s going to burn. Two fingers isn’t nearly enough to prepare him for Sephiroth’s girth, but he doesn’t care. He knows exactly how it’s going to feel. Knowing, of course, doesn’t keep him from screaming just the way Sephiroth wants when he’s speared open with one ruthless snap of Sephiroth’s hips.

“What a good little toy,” purrs Sephiroth, grinding his hips against Cloud’s ass, giving him a little time to adjust to the eye-watering stretch.

“I’m not your toy, ” growls Cloud, although it doesn’t come out nearly as confidently as he’d intended because his voice is thick and shaky with the strain of getting pried open so fast.

“I didn’t call you a puppet,” Sephiroth points out, humor in his voice.

“It’s the same thing,” says Cloud bitterly. Guess he’d imagined a few things after all.

“No,” whispers Sephiroth, slowly rocking his hips. “No...you use puppets, Cloud. You play with toys.”

“Oh my god, will you just move already?” It comes out pretty snarky, but damned if he’s going to let Sephiroth see the tears that prick at the corners of his eyes. Or tell him it might be okay if he wants to call Cloud his toy every now and then, as long as he doesn’t still have his sword in his hand, anyway.

“Your idea,” Sephiroth warns, but doesn’t offer him a chance to change his mind. He drags his cock back until just the head remains inside Cloud’s stinging, aching hole, then slams it back in. Cloud howls. Fuck. Fuck, it hurts, it burns, but it’s perfect. It scours out the last few cobwebs in his brain until his head is completely peaceful and the burn fades to heat. He pulls against his wrists in frustration. He can’t get any leverage like this, Sephiroth murmurs another incantation and the wood surrounding his forearms softens and runs again. He yanks his hands free and fists them in the bedcovers, panting gratefully and bracing himself so he’ll feel every brutal, driving thrust in his bones. He can feel every inch of Sephiroth’s thick length rubbing inside him, grinding over his sweet spot whether he tries to or not because he’s just that big. But of course, being the sadistic bastard that he is, Sephiroth aims for it too, knowing Cloud’s body well enough to fucking nail it every time. It punches helpless cries from Cloud’s lungs. Gasping for breath, he unclenches one hand from the bedding to reach for his weeping, aching cock.

“Touch yourself and you won’t come at all,” snaps Sephiroth. Cloud buries his face in the pillow and screams into it in frustration. Oh Goddess, he aches all over, and he wants to come so bad he’s going to start to cry again soon and at this point, that’s just going to be humiliati…

“Haa…”

Sephiroth’s feathers stroke up his side, softly tickling his heated skin. It pebbles in their wake. Sephiroth gasps. The feathers brush delicately over the length of Cloud’s wing as well, and desperate whimpers spill from his lips. The softness of the touch, and knowing that it’s turning Sephiroth on even more, in stark contrast to the savagery with which he’s being fucked turns some kind of switch in Cloud’s brain.

“Fuck...fuck, I’m...I’m gonna come. Se...Sephiroth…”

Sephiroth’s feathered wing shoves his own flat against the mattress, somehow effortlessly forcing it to extend. It flexes, not because Cloud’s really trying to get away, because he’s not, he’s way too far gone for that, it’s just a reflex. It might seem on the surface that his own wing should be stronger than Sephiroth’s, because Sephiroth’s looks a great deal more delicate and fragile. It’s not the case. He can’t budge it an inch. Exquisitely soft feathers rub against every inch of bone and membrane. His eyes roll back in his head.

“Cloud,” snarls Sephiroth in his ear. His voice is raw and hoarse with desire. There’s a wildness to it he’s never heard before. “Hn...Ohh. Cloud.  Come. ”

Well, when he puts it that way. Cloud’s vision tunnels, going white. A cry is torn from his throat, a wrecked, almost plaintive sound as pleasure drowns him in more sensation than his overwrought body can handle. It’s made all the more shattering by the fact that he’s never heard Sephiroth make more noise than a little heavier breathing, or a soft grunt when he comes, but that’s not true tonight. His ragged moan hitches in his chest and he gasps out a single word as he empties himself into Cloud’s sore, snug, tight heat.

It is his lover’s name.

A short time later, Cloud drowses in the bed, sleepily enjoying the myriad small aches of his body. It’s not scratchy anymore, Sephiroth having pulled the covers back and then draped them over him.

“Whose place is this?” he’d asked, lifting his head to look around curiously. There’s not a great deal in the room to identify its owner. It’s comfortable, but nothing very fancy.

“Mine,”  Sephiroth had said, his mouth quirking up at one corner. He’d finished tugging his pants back up over his hips and left the room, telling Cloud he’d return in a few moments, leaving the younger man blinking after him in surprise. He returns now with a plate of food. He sits down on the edge of the bed and offers Cloud a piece of some kind of juicy yellow fruit, taking a bite for himself. There’s some bread and cheese as well.

“Are you tending me?” Cloud asks, feeling a little incredulous. Sephiroth smirks.

“I worked you over rather...thoroughly tonight. I felt it would be prudent not to send you off in your weakened condition to be devoured by Heartless. Is that what they do? Eat people? Do they eat, I wonder…” And Cloud realizes Sephiroth really doesn’t have anything to do with the Heartless. He rolls his eyes and accepts another piece of fruit.

“Ass,” he says without rancor. “What is this fruit anyway? It’s pretty damn good.”

“Oh...it’s something imported from an island group. What’s it called again...it’s shaped a good bit like a star. Ah, paupu, that’s what it is.”

The uneaten bite of fruit in Cloud’s hand falls from nerveless fingers and he stares speechlessly at the man sitting next to him, calmly consuming another small section, cut from the same piece of fruit.

Chapter Text

Consciousness is slow to return. Gradually, the aches and pains of his body seem to come online one at a time. Goddess, he hurts. How long has he been out? Only moments, surely, or his enhancements would be farther along in healing him. There’s searing agony at his back. Strangely though, it’s not any of his pains that pull back the heavy grey curtain holding him down in the twilight of unconsciousness. There’s something touching his face. A tiny sensation moving across his skin. Is it...pushing his hair back from his face? A hand? No, not a hand, the contact with his skin doesn’t feel that way, it’s almost...scratching him. Stifling a moan of pain, he drags his lids up and tries to focus his bleary eyes.

The instant they cooperate, his eyes widen in alarm and his body tenses. Where’s his sword? He must defend himself! It can’t end like this, with him lying here helpless in the dust like a…

Masamune pulls back from his face where Sephiroth has been using it to push Cloud’s hair out of his face in order to get a better look at it.

“Oh relax,” he says calmly. “I was just trying to determine whether you were still breathing. Getting down there on my knees in the dirt would have been a waste if you’d already expired, after all.”

“So you stuck your sword in my face?” croaks Cloud incredulously, then winces as even the effort of speaking causes sheer agony to spear through his body. Sephiroth ignores the question.

“Who did this to you?” he asks. He looms over Cloud’s battered body in all his cold, perfect beauty, his silver hair tossing gently in the breeze. His face is impassive. His eyes are anything but. The slit pupils have contracted until they’re barely visible, and his irises blaze with rage.

“N..not sure. Who...sent them. N-nobodies. Sn..snipers. There were too...too many,” gasps Cloud.

“Two,” mutters Sephiroth under his breath. “You must be causing them quite a bit of trouble for the Freeshooter to go to such lengths for you. Why aren’t you healing?”

“How the fuck.. should I know? Sh-shit.” Clout grits out between his teeth. Sephiroth’s elegant brows draw together in a small frown. He murmurs the incantation of a healing spell, and Cloud’s body is bathed in soft warmth. The relief is instantaneous, and in such sharp contrast to the searing agony of moments before that he starts to stand up before realizing that the spell has been only partially successful. He falls back with a sharp cry. Sephiroth sighs.

“Well then, there’s nothing for it. I shall simply have to tend to you myself.”

WIth this outrageous and wildly alarming statement, he banishes Masamune with a gesture and crouches down beside Cloud. The young SOLDIER slaps at his hands as Sephiroth reaches for him.

“Don’t touch me, you lunatic! I don’t need you to tend to me! I want to live !”

“Don’t be ungrateful, little toy. You may be too injured right now, but you’ll be better soon.” Cloud blinks and wonders what the fuck has happened to his life that he’s lying here broken in the dirt with his archenemy kneeling over him, making veiled threats to punish him for ingratitude and that his dick is actually making a halfhearted attempt to perk up and take notice about it. He’s delirious with pain. That must be it.

Sephiroth’s hands are surprisingly gentle as he works them under Cloud’s battered body so he can lift him. He gets the wounded young man into a sitting position, Cloud’s head lolling against his shoulder, and they both bite back exclamations at the same time; Cloud’s a cry of pain and Sephiroth’s an oath of horror.

Cloud’s wing, which has been twisted underneath his body until now, is revealed when he’s pulled gently off his back. It is, for lack of a better term, ruined. Ragged tears shred the leathery black membrane. The bones and joints are crushed and twisted, and the main joint, connected at Cloud’s back, hangs limply, twisted and mangled.

“What happened?” breathes Sephiroth. Cloud leans his forehead heavily against the older man’s shoulder. His memory is coming back rapidly now.

“Too many of them,” he says tiredly. “Shooting at range. I got the ones I could. Then..fuck...I..I used it...my w-wing... to try...try to get to the rest. Get them to stop. Stop shooting. They...hah...not s-stupid like hea-heartless. T-targeted my wing.” His teeth are starting to chatter as shock sets in. He feels so cold.

“I don’t see any more of them around,” muses Sephiroth, lifting his head and looking around, his green eyes searching. He sounds a little disappointed.

“I won,” sighs Cloud, shivering.

“Of course you did. You’ve never known when to quit,” says Sephiroth, sounding exasperated and also strangely fond. “Come on then, up you go. I’ve got to get you out of here before more of them show up, as much as it would entertain me to show them the error of their ways.” He lifts Cloud carefully into his powerful arms, trying as best he can not to jostle the mangled wing. Cloud moans in pain anyway as the useless limb shifts when he’s moved, and then dangles below him when Sephiroth stands smoothly. “I need to set those breaks as quickly as possible too...at least until we can figure out why you’re not healing. Perhaps the magic from this world will help you, but I don’t...I don’t have any potions with me. I’m sorry. I don’t...mean to cause you pain. Not this time, at any rate.”

Cloud smacks him weakly on the arm.

“Asshole,” he mumbles.

“Please do keep in mind that I intend to see to it that you heal completely, and that you’ll be completely at my mercy until that happens,” says Sephiroth, hiding his smile in the smaller man’s messy hair. Cloud isn’t sure, because he’s really hurting awfully bad, and his eyes keep wanting to close again, but it almost feels like Sephiroth presses his lips to Cloud’s head before he looks up at the sky.”There’s a storm coming,” he says absently. “I don’t want to expose you to the Corridors in this condition.” He sighs. “I don’t see another way. It’s...going to cause you more pain. It can’t be helped, but I’ll do my best to minimize it.”

“What are you doing?” asks Cloud, struggling weakly when he feels Sephiroth’s entire body tense.

“I can’t teleport with you. I’m carrying you. Please don’t struggle, you’ll only injure yourself further.” And he leaps into the air with Cloud cradled in his arms like a child. Panicked, Cloud tries to escape his grasp as he feels the ground fall away below them.

“No...no,” he protests, pushing against Sephiroth’s chest. Sephiroth simply tightens his hold. Cloud screams in agony. Darkness roils up and sucks him down.

When he returns to himself again, awareness is considerably faster at returning too. He’s lying on his stomach, his body cushioned by softness. He’s still cold, but it’s a little better. There’s something...a blanket...covering him from his lower back down, but the rest of his back is bare. It becomes clear to him by the notable sensation of the bedding against his feet, legs, his ass and...everything along his front that he’s lying on...that he’s naked. He can see the wooden framed headboard of a bed, and the stone of walls coming together in the corner where the bed sits. He takes in the crossbar of said headboard and his mind supplies him with images of it rippling and rolling over his arms, holding him fast. He’s in Sephiroth’s bed. Naked in Sephiroth’s bed.

He lifts his head to look around, and a bolt of pain lances through his body. He tries to hold back his exclamation of it, without a great deal of success. He slowly pulls his arms under him to lift himself up a little. Or tries to. Which is when he realizes his wrists are firmly encased in strong leather cuffs, and bound to the bed by sturdy chains he has no chance of breaking. When his legs shift and he hears more chain rattle softly, it’s clear his ankles are cuffed the same way. Panic sparks in his brain, an instinctive reaction to his helplessness, and he thrashes against his captivity. Oh Goddess, the pain is hellish. He’s dimly aware that weak, animal sounds of pain and fear are torn from his throat, but he can’t do anything to stop them. He has to get free, has to escape. He’s not safe, he can’t...he…

A shadow briefly blocks the soft glow of several candles, then Sephiroth is there, kneeling beside him and looking into his eyes, his hand on Cloud’s face. His rich baritone voice is quiet and steady as he says Cloud’s name, repeating it until Cloud stops thrashing and looks at him, eyes glassy, pupils wide with fear and pain.

“Cloud, stop. You’re hurting yourself,” he says softly.

“Let me go,” cries Cloud.

“You’re not a captive, foolish boy. I’m going to set your wing. It’s...not going to be easy.”

“So you fucking tied me to your bed?”

“Your will is strong,” says Sephiroth calmly, “and your tolerance for pain is...impressive. But what I intend to do...what I must do, if there’s any hope of saving it...it will be more than you can bear. More than anyone could. I’ve bound you for your safety, to hold you as still as possible. I’ll unchain you the moment it’s done, if you’ll promise to be still and let it heal.”

“Why don’t you just cut it off,” says Cloud bitterly.

“I will not,” says Sephiroth flatly. “I’ve sent for some potions, and I hope they’ll help with your wounds. I believe I’ve determined that the projectiles of the Sniper nobodies who attacked you were poisoned, and that’s why you’re not healing normally. But before I’ll allow you to use the potions, your wing must be set. I’m afraid of the magic simply...healing it the way it is, with the bones and joints out of line. It would be crippled, and you’d be weakened by that. Whether you like it or not, your wing makes you a better fighter. I won’t...leave you at a disadvantage in a strange world when your stubborn insistence on fighting the hordes puts you so frequently in danger.”

“Yeah? And you won’t have nearly as much fun fighting me if I don’t have it, either,” snarks Cloud. Sephiroth’s mouth quirks.

“That too,” he agrees easily. “I find that I am also loath to lose...this.” Sephiroth’s wing curves around his body to brush gently up Cloud’s side. They both shiver. At the end of the caress, the tips of Sephiroth’s primary feathers brush the broken first joint of Cloud’s useless wing. For a brief moment, the pain lessens from intense misery to a dull, aching throb.

“Oh,” he whispers.

“Did I hurt you?” asks Sephiroth. He doesn’t sound apologetic, exactly, but curious.

“No...actually, it made it feel...a little better,” admits Cloud reluctantly. Sephiroth nods. His smile looks like it might be trying not to be smug, but doesn’t quite make it.

“That’s good to know. It may help you...tolerate the setting process a little better. I’ll try to keep the feathers in contact without putting any pressure on your wing. Cloud,” he adds uncomfortably, “it is still...not going to be pleasant.”

“I’m not stupid. I know that. If you’re not going to cut it off like I asked, just get on with it. I’m really not enjoying being chained to your bed right now.”

“Mm. Not now ,” agrees Sephiroth, smirking as he stands up and turns back to the small table. Cloud rolls his eyes, but it’s not like he can really argue. He hadn’t hated being bound to this bed the last time it had happened. Not when he’d been honest with himself about it. Not at all. Sephiroth turns back, and he has a tray in his hands. It holds a number of flat, slender steel splints, bandages, and a bowl with a sharp-smelling liquid in it, accompanied by several clean cloths. He kneels beside the bed again and sets it down. His eyes stare searchingly into Cloud’s for what seems to the injured fighter a very long time.

“What,” he finally asks, uncomfortable under such close scrutiny.

“It truly might be the...easier option for you. If I amputate,” says Sephiroth finally, reluctantly. “I know you hate your wing, and what it represents. There’s so much damage. I do not truly know if it will heal cleanly. I’m...trying to decide how selfish I’m being. It won’t sever our connection, Cloud, no matter how badly you might want to believe it will. But you wouldn’t have to...look at it anymore, and be reminded.”

Cloud sighs heavily, and turns his face away. Maybe it makes him a coward, but he can’t look at Sephiroth for this.

“It won’t work,” he says, his voice choked with bitterness. Gaia, admitting this out loud is hard. It’s something he’s never told anyone before. “I’ve tried.”

“Explain,” says Sephiroth quietly.

“Not long after it...appeared...I...damn it...I cut it off.”

“You...cut it…. idiot !” growls Sephiroth.

“Okay, I get it. I don’t need to hear that from you. I know it was stupid, and I paid for it, okay? It came back. It hurt the first time. The second time...I thought it was going to kill me. I’ve never felt pain like that before, and on top of it...I was sick for days. Really sick. Fever, chills...I couldn’t keep anything down. I’m stuck with it. I...didn’t mean it when I told you to cut it off. Going through that a third time….no thanks. Even this is better than that would be. Sephiroth…” He turns his head, faces the man again. This...enemy. Lover. Nemesis. Savior. Fuck, but it was a lot less complicated when all they did was try to kill each other. No, you tried to kill him. All he’s ever really tried to do is seduce you in one way or another. “I don’t hate my wing. Not really. It does make me a better fighter. Stronger, faster...and I can fight in the air with it too, not just on the ground. I hate what it represents sometimes. The darkness in me. But I’m starting to...get that, a little. That...like you said...I don’t have to let it use me. I can use it. But why...why is yours so beautiful, when mine’s...like this? Because there’s more...hate and evil and darkness in me, in the end, than there is in you?” He’s too injured, in too much pain, to fight back the tears that prick the corners of his eyes. Sephiroth blinks in surprise and sits back on his heels.

“That’s what you think? You couldn’t be more wrong. Cloud...foolish boy...the form your wing took when it first formed has nothing to do with your condition. It looks the way it does because of your conflict within yourself. If you’d been at peace within yourself the way you’re just beginning to be now...if you accepted your darkness as well as your light...yours would have been the mirror image of mine.”

Cloud buries his face in the pillow and muffles a sound that is half sob and half laugh.

“So maybe if you keep beating the crap out of me when I get stupid, if it ever gets hacked off again, I’ll have feathers when it comes back next time,” he mumbles. Sephiroth laughs softly.

“It will be my privilege,” he says with a straight face, though amusement sparkles in his eyes. “Though I’m afraid it may well require a great deal more suffering at my hand on your part to reach that point. You really are the most stubborn toy I’ve ever had the honor of...beating the crap out of.”

“Oh, you bastard,” says Cloud, groaning when the laughter he can’t quite suppress jostles his wing. “You just get off on it too much to stop.”

“Of course I do. I didn’t realize that was even in question. You’re very beautiful when you suffer for me.” He leans closer to whisper in Cloud’s ear, his voice husky and rife with the promise of lust to be fulfilled. “And you’re exquisite when you come for me. When you fall apart around me, clenching me so tightly. The sound of your voice, crying out your completion is more perfect than any song. I mean to have you again and again, to bring you to that point of perfect surrender, and perfect pleasure. I will heal you, Cloud. So that I can shatter you again.”

“ Fuck ,” gasps Cloud, dizzy with the images Sephiroth’s wicked words spark in his brain. Despite his pain, his traitorous prick stirs against the soft sheets. “Ohh, damn you. Just… can we get on with this?”

“Of course. Brace yourself. No matter how careful I am, this is really going to hurt.”

It does. Oh, Goddess , it hurts. He’s shaking and sweating before Sephiroth finishes setting the two breaks in the first and thickest of the bones in his wing. Sephiroth’s hands are quick and sure, and as gentle as it’s possible for him to be. He keeps his own wing curled around his body as he bends over Cloud’s mangled appendage, so that the tips of his feathers remain in contact with some part at all times. In the moments when he’s not manipulating the shattered bones, the touch dims the pain a little, allowing Cloud to breathe. Then he moves down to the second joint.

“Cloud,” he says softly, “look at me. Cloud!” He raises his voice when Cloud keeps his eyes screwed shut tightly. With an irritated, pained groan, Cloud obeys him. “There’s a compound fracture in this one. I’m going to have to pull the bone back through the skin, past the break to line up the fracture before I can set it. I’m strong enough to do it, but if you fight me, it’s going to tear muscle too. I want you to relax, no matter how hard it is. Do you understand?”

“I hate you so much right now,” says Cloud shakily.

“Yes, yes. I’m doing this on purpose, of course, and enjoying it immensely. Do you understand what I’m asking of you?”

Cloud nods jerkily and closes his eyes again. He sighs and forces his unwilling body to relax. He has no idea how he’s going to manage to keep it that way once Sephiroth starts pulling on his splintered bones. Just deal with the torn muscles having to heal along with the bones, he guesses. Unless…

He opens his eyes again. Sephiroth is frowning at the exposed, jagged end of the bone that protrudes obscenely from Cloud’s second wing bone.

“Se..seph…” mutters Cloud, and Sephiroth stops, looking at him inquiringly. “Make me.”

“What are you…”

“ Make me,” says Cloud urgently. Sephiroth’s frown of confusion clears.

“You hate that aspect of our connection more than all others,” he says softly. “I didn’t engineer it on purpose. I hope you believe that.”

Cloud waves that away with the fingers on his left hand. Now is really not the time to debate the origins of Sephiroth’s ability to manipulate those who share Jenova’s genetic material. He’s entirely sure that particular result had been Jenova’s doing anyway. She’d manipulated Sephiroth far more cruelly than she had anyone else anyway, stealing his identity, his will, and his sanity in her machinations to create her idea of a perfect world in her own image. Evil bitch. The important thing right now though, is that from time to time, when he really tries and Cloud isn’t at his best, Sephiroth can impose his will on Cloud, whether he likes it or not.

“Whatever,” he says hoarsely. Now is so not the time to debate any of this. “Just do it.”

“Look at me.” Sephiroth’s voice makes him shiver, despite his agony. It feels like a physical touch on his skin, deep and rich and finer than velvet, than the softest, most buttery leather in existence. He gazes, unflinchingly for once, into deep Mako green. Sephiroth’s eyes burn into him, filling him with the other man’s powerful presence, his indomitable will. “Relax, Cloud. Relax your wing. Ignore the pain. Let me help you. Relax .”

Cloud does. The pain fades into the background. It isn’t lessened, his awareness of it is. The tension in his left shoulder vanishes, and his wing slumps against the bed, all of the tension running out of it like water through a sieve. Sephiroth grasps both bones of the second joint and pulls them apart with steady, unhesitating pressure. Tears fill Cloud’s eyes and roll down his face unchecked, because despite Sephiroth’s will, it is hell when the bone pulls back through the lacerated flesh of his wing, back past the point of the break, and then settles slowly and carefully into place against its other half. Sephiroth has lined the two halves up perfectly by feel on the first try. He lays the splints in place and swiftly binds them. Then he sits back for a few moments, picking up one of the cloths and using it to wipe the sweat from his face before he does the same for Cloud, who notices that Sephiroth’s hands are shaking.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, his voice thick with tears. Sephiroth blinks and smiles at him, brushing blond spikes away from Cloud’s damp forehead.

“It is nothing. You’re doing well. The rest of the bones are much smaller, and will be easier to set.”

“No,” says Cloud stubbornly, mainly because it’s giving him something else to focus on than the nauseating misery wracking his body. “I know it’s not bothering you to hurt me. You do it all the time. And I know this isn’t more physically...taxing...than fighting me or...anything else you do. Um. To me. What’s wrong with you?”

“Leave it alone for now,” says Sephiroth a little tiredly. “We are nearly done.” He lifts his shoulder, rotates it a bit, and his feathers drift over Cloud’s wing. The tips brush across torn membrane, and the muscles around Sephiroth’s eyes tighten. His face pales a little. He shifts his wing again, and his expression clears a bit.

“You can feel it,” breathes Cloud.

“It doesn’t matter,” says Sephiroth firmly, but he doesn’t deny it.

“You can feel the pain when your wing touches mine. Can’t you?”

“So stubborn,” mutters Sephiroth, frowning at him. “What of it?”

“Well, stop it, you idiot! There’s no reason for you to be hurting yourself while you’re...putting me back together. That’s just stupid!”

“You would do well to remember that your well being is in my hands, and that I have an excellent memory. That you’re injured earns you a degree of indulgence from me, but you will not be too injured for me to discipline for long,” Sephiroth retorts with dignity.

“Why?” asks Cloud, because it just doesn’t make sense to him. “Why would you do this?”

“Call it penance if you like,” says Sephiroth cooly.

“For what ?” wonder Cloud, thoroughly confused.

“Just because I...awoke in this world free from insanity...and the whisper of her voice...does not mean I cannot recall everything I did while under her sway,” says Sephiroth stiffly. Cloud stares at him speechlessly. This is...just not something he’d ever considered. Because he’d awakened here the same person he’d been...before...he’s always assumed that Sephiroth had too. Kneeling here beside him, he suddenly considers that this may actually be the Sephiroth from before he’d fallen into the Lifestream.

“You don’t have to...suffer for me,” he mutters awkwardly. “You’re already doing enough, setting it for me and...stuff.”

“That is my choice to make,” says Sephiroth softly. He bends back to his task, moving on to the next fracture. His wing doesn’t move, other than to shift out of his way when he needs it to, and he glances down when he does so, to make sure his feathers rest against undamaged sections of the wing’s membranes. Cloud gets the feeling he’s doing it a lot more to make sure he doesn’t cause Cloud more pain than he is to protect himself though.

They make it through the rest of the bone setting process. Sephiroth’s order to relax helps a little, but the compulsion fades quickly as sheer bloody pain combines with the strength of Cloud’s own mind serve to weaken it. He trembles and bites his lip until he tastes his own blood, tears leaking from his eyes, nausea churning in his guts. He has to stop Sephiroth once to vomit weakly into a bucket the other man swiftly whips under his face when he leans over the side of the bed, face red with embarrassment. His vision swims before his bleary eyes, going gray around the edges more than once, but he’s denied the relief fainting from pain might bring him, and remains aware of the whole horrible process. He loses track of time before Sephiroth is done, everything blurring into an odd twilight kind of consciousness built out of an strange combination of agony and bemused confusion over what Sephiroth has revealed to him.

“Finished,” says Sephiroth at last. He gently cleans Cloud’s wounds with whatever is in the bowl one last time, then holds a small vial to his lips. Cloud drinks the potion as Sephiroth supports his head. It tastes good, and washes away the bitterness of his own bile. His body tingles with warmth, and he feels much better afterwards, but he can see Sephiroth frowning a little as he inspects Cloud’s body and wing, unbuckling the restraints from his wrists and ankles and chafing them gently with his hands to restore blood flow where Cloud has yanked against them too much in his misery.

“No good?” he rasps, his throat hoarse with pain and exhaustion.

“It helped, a little more than my own spell, I think. But your wounds are...still there. I am sorry.”

“Not your fault,” whispers Cloud, though he can’t hide his disappointment. It doesn’t make sense, that the combination of his own body’s enhancements and Sephiroth’s magic and the magic of the potion from this world should have so little effect on his injuries.

“I shall see what I can discover about this,” says Sephiroth, putting away the triage supplies. His movements are slow and a little stiff. His pale, alabaster skin looks almost gray.

“Tomorrow,” whispers Cloud. Sephiroth looks at him sharply, mouth opening. Cloud reaches out and curls his fingers around the taller man’s wrist. “I’m tired. Just...stay. With me. Stay.”

“All right,” says Sephiroth softly. He sits down in one of the two chairs at the table and takes off his boots, the shimmering waterfall of his hair sliding forward to cover his face. Then he stands, tossing it over his shoulder, to remove his belts, harness and leather. Cloud watches him. It’s impossible not to. The man is almost impossibly gorgeous. He’s not making any attempt at all to be lascivious, but Cloud’s breath catches in his throat anyway. The shift and slide of chiseled muscle makes his mouth water a little. He folds his pants and puts them away in a small dresser, then turns back towards the bed, wearing only tight black shorts. There’s something almost hesitant in his demeanor.

“Come on, Sephiroth,” says Cloud, yawning hugely. “Your bed is big enough for two.”

“I’m simply concerned about jostling your injuries in my sleep. I…” Sephiroth looks away. “I dream. Sometimes.”

Goddess, thinks Cloud tiredly, if he doesn’t stop acting so fucking human, I’m going to have to smother him with a pillow to get him to stop before I… He stops that particular train of thought in its tracks before it decides to go somewhere crazy, and holds out his hand, wincing when it makes the muscles in his back flex. Sephiroth frowns and walks to the bed. He stands looking down at Cloud for a moment, in obvious thought. The bed is shoved into the corner of the room, so he’ll have to clamber over his patient to get into it, or make Cloud move. He steps back a little.

“Brace yourself a bit, I’ll try not to jostle you,” he mutters, frowning more as he bends down and grasps the bedframe in both hands. The bed is fairly large, and sturdily built, and Cloud himself is no longer the lightweight he’d been when they’d first met years and years ago, but Sephiroth pulls it away from the wall as though bed and occupant weigh next to nothing.

“Showoff,” mutters Cloud. Sephiroth walks around to the other side of the bed, looking pleased with himself. He pulls back the bedcovers and slides in beside Cloud, carefully making sure their bodies do not touch.

“Can you sleep on your stomach, or would you like me to restrain you again so you don’t undo all my hard work in your sleep?” he asks, blinking innocently at Cloud as though he’s not being outrageous.

“Pervert,” growls Cloud. “As if I’d let you tie me to your bed to sleep . Anyway, I sleep on my stomach on my right side since I got this damned thing. I’ll be fine.” It had taken him several weeks of startling himself into pained wakefulness upon rolling over onto his folded wing to get used to new sleeping positions, but Cloud is used to it now.

“I am only looking out for your well being,” says Sephiroth comfortably, but his eyes gleam with things that make Cloud think of not being injured anymore, and it takes longer than he expects to fall asleep after Sephiroth puts out the candles with a gesture and closes his eyes.

The dream is not his usual kind, when it comes to this sort of dream. Erotic dreams, for him, have long been filled with images of his own helplessness as he’s ruthlessly used, or being bound and tormented in ways his body responds to whether he wants it to or not. Even of being much smaller, having been caught at something he’s been forbidden to do (those particular details never seem to be particularly important to the dream) and he’s to be severely punished. Bent over, tied or held, stripped no matter how hard he kicks and struggles, his young body spread wide and exposed, some terrifying implement of torment which will be used to whip him for what will surely be hours and hour held in the fist of the man… The man doesn’t change. He’s the same no matter the dream, and though Cloud never sees his face while he sleeps, he knows perfectly well who it is. Sometimes he can see black leather gloves. Sometimes the boots beneath his face as he’s forced to look at the ground. Sometimes there is a rustle or small brush of feathers on his skin (more often, now that he knows how that feels), or the silken slide of silver hair across his fevered skin.

These are his erotic dreams. He has others, sometimes of friends and family, sitting around a huge table with new and improbable companions joining them, all of them laughing and everyone talking at once...of Aerith…. Aerith! ...gently trying to get them to take turns, and Tifa backing her up by kicking ass, and Yuffie screwing things up so everyone’s laughing and talking again. Sometimes he has nightmares, of cold darkness and knowing it’s where he belongs, with heartless howling all around him and mocking eyes laughing as he screams defiance. Once, the eyes had been Mako green, but lately they have become yellow.

This dream is different. He’s still bound, but there is no sense of impending punishment, which is a little frustrating on one hand, but also not his main concern at the moment. Hands touch his skin, and soft lips meet his own. Silk entwines his limbs. His cock, quivering and hard, aches between his thighs as his hips roll helplessly, seeking contact. “ Please ” he begs, desperate to be touched where he needs it so bad…

“Please…” His eyes fly open in surprise as he becomes aware he’s spoken out loud. With his lips pressed against Sephiroth’s mouth. Silver hair glides over his body, around his arms and down his sides. Their legs are tangled together. His cock, naked and already dripping with need, rocks towards the other man’s body, but finds no purchase. Sephiroth is considerably taller than he is, so when their mouths line up, his waist hits somewhere around Sephiroth’s diaphragm. Sephiroth’s mouth curves into a smile.

“I really shouldn’t indulge you,” he murmurs, kissing Cloud languidly. “But you’ve managed to put me in something of a predicament too.”

“Kill me now,” groans Cloud, but he glances down and can see that Sephiroth is hard too, his erection straining against the front of his drawers, a small, damp stain spreading near the waistband.

“I hardly think so. Try not to move very much, or I’ll stop. You’re not putting any strain on your wing lying on your right side like this, but if you hurt yourself, you can just suffer until this goes away.”

“What the hell are you... hngh!” Cloud gasps when Sephiroth scoots up a little, still facing him, and pushes the front of his shorts down. Their cocks bump blindly and then slide together when Sephiroth rolls his hips gently. His long fingers slowly close around both their lengths. “Oh fuck,” whispers Cloud.

“Not until you’re feeling a lot better,” comments Sephiroth. “This will have to do until then. Ah-ah, don’t move your hips! Leave this to me.” His hand strokes slowly up and down. The pressure from his fingers combined with the heat and friction of his thick length sliding against Cloud is amazing. He’s never experienced anything like this before. He closes his eyes and shudders. The urge to move along with Sephiroth’s lazy strokes is strong, but he understands, at least intellectually, that it would put strain on the muscles in his back and that would be a bad idea. His body, on the other hand, thinks it would be an excellent idea.

“Can...could you...ngh...move your hand...a little faster? Cause I really wanna move,” he gasps.

“I will,” purrs Sephiroth, “if you open your eyes.”

Cloud squeezes his eyelids more tightly together and hates that he can feel his cheeks flushing with embarrassment. Oh, to have to open them and meet that knowing gaze! Sephiroth chuckles and keeps up his slow torment, stroking firmly up and down, his thumb rubbing lazily over the heads of both their erections now and then, which makes Cloud gasp. It feels so damn good, and the tightness of Sephiroth’s grip is just right, but it’s not fast enough to make him come. At least, not before he loses his mind. With a groan, he forces himself to open his eyes, thinking to himself that if Sephiroth says one snarky thing, or laughs at him, he will do his best to kill the bastard once he’s better, come hel or high water!

But there is no hint of mocking in Sephiroth’s eyes as he gazes wordlessly into Cloud’s blurred blue ones. His pupils are dilated so wide they’re nearly round. His lips part on a soft gasp as he keeps his promise and ramps up the speed of his strokes.

“Little tease,” he whispers, sounding somewhat breathless, which mollifies Cloud kind of a lot, knowing the other man is almost as turned-on as he his. “Touching me in my sleep. Putting me in such a state when there’s little I can do about it.”

“I didn’t do it on purpose,” protests Cloud, panting.

“Oh, I don’t care. You’re still going to pay for it later.”

“Hn. H-how? Tell me.”

“Shall I? Very well. Boys who tease must be punished, you know.”

“O-oh yeah?” gasps Cloud, trembling with the desire to arch into Sephiroth’s touch.

“Most assuredly. I think I’ll tie you back to my bed when you’re well enough and prove my point.”

“What... fuck ...what are you going to do?” Cloud can hardly believe this person is him, practically begging Sephiroth to talk dirty to him, and that it’s working . Not only is it working, it’s really working. For both of them, if the way Sephiroth swallows and his breath catches before he continues is any indication. His eyes burn like emeralds set in a lantern.

“I think I’ll spank you. Your behavior is quite shocking,” he says gravely.

“You...you don’t seem to mind too...ah...much,” Cloud responds. His cock twitches in Sephiroth’s hand. Sephiroth growls softly.

“Mm. That doesn’t mean you don’t...deserve it. Boys who tease should be taught a lesson.”

“I’d think they should just get fucked pretty hard,” mutters Cloud. Not that he minds...the other thing. Particularly.

“Ah yes, but it will be longer before your body’s ready for that , so what you’ve done to me is particularly bad of you. No, there’s no other solution but to punish you. Thoroughly.”

“Ngh. S-Sephi..roth!”

“So hard, Cloud. Over and over. Until you swear you’ll never, ever do it again.”

“I’m gonna come pretty soon,” gasps Cloud, moaning when Sephiroth’s thumb rubs a teasing circle around the head of his cock.

“So hard ,” hisses Sephiroth. His stroking speeds up again, and Cloud whimpers, heat pooling in his belly, his balls drawing up tight against his body. “Until you cry. Come, Cloud. Come for me.”

Cloud can’t hold back a stuttering cry as his orgasm washes through his body in wave after wave or warm, golden pleasure. Sephiroth groans deep in his chest, and Cloud feels the surge and pulse of the other man’s cock against his own, their seed mingling together between their bodies, hot and thick. Sephiroth takes a deep breath and leans down to kiss him, a quick peck of lips. He grins wickedly.

“Good morning.”

Cloud turns an interesting shade of red and wishes he could sink through the floor. Did that actually happen? Maybe I’m just still dreaming. But Sephiroth slipping from the bed and returning shortly thereafter with a damp cloth to clean both of them up a bit puts an end to this dim hope.

“Well, that was entertaining,” says Sephiroth briskly, rising again and helping Cloud over onto his stomach. “But don’t expect to make a habit of it. If magic isn’t going to heal you, you’re going to have to be very careful about moving very much at all for the next few days. I won’t have you doing anything to risk damaging those healing fractures.”

“Days?” groans Cloud, relieved to be able to bury his face in the pillow and pretend the other man isn’t there. At least, not those burning green eyes and his fucking hands.

“Hm,” agrees Sephiroth, sounding almost cheerful about it. “Possibly weeks.”

Cloud whimpers.

Chapter Text

Cloud changes his mind after two days. This wasn’t a bad idea. This was the bad idea to end all other bad ideas. A bad idea of epic proportions. To say it’s a catastrophe was putting it mildly. The potions he took every day helped his injuries a little. The ones on his body are actually well on their way to being healed by the second day. His wing, on the other hand, is a different story. While the bones are healing faster than they would if he was a normal human being and there was no magic speeding it along, it’s still looking as though they’re going to take some time to heal.

Sephiroth had gone out after bringing Cloud something to eat, and returned several hours later looking grim and angry. He’d apparently been able to track down the tall Nobody with the ridiculous, spiky red hair that made Cloud’s own look sedate. There was apparently some kind of scientist wizard in Organization XIII who liked to come up with all manner of experiments, chemicals and the like...as well as much darker things, if the one numbered Eight was to be believed. Cloud’s not sure about this, and rather has the impression that Axel will say whatever suits his purpose at any given time. Still, it seems that Cloud and his ability to slaughter significant numbers of Heartless is seen to be interfering in the grand scheme of the leader of said Organization. The one with the white hair and yellow eyes; Xemnas. Something about them needing to be killed with a keyblade and nothing else. He’d given orders to his Second member to “handle” Cloud. Xigbar is the one who can control the Snipers who had attacked Cloud while he was out on his own, and they’d apparently had their projectiles enhanced in some way to ensure that they finished the job. Sephiroth had even apparently teleported right into Merlin’s living room, dumping some of the bloody bandages he’d used on Cloud, informed the startled wizard that he needed to find out what was wrong, and why healing magic wasn’t working.

Privately, Cloud really wishes he could have been a fly on the wall for that particular exchange. He can well imagine Sephiroth acting coldly imperious while poor Merlin stood there biting his beard and spluttering and the fairies buzzed around in agitation.

“You didn’t hurt any of them, did you?” he’d asked suspiciously.

“No,” Sephiroth had replied unhelpfully, then smirked at Cloud and added, “although I have been informed by the small, round blue-clad fairy that I am a bag of dicks and can’t go popping into people’s kitchens ordering them around. She threw a tea kettle at my head. I felt it prudent to leave at that point, but I’d said what I’d come to say by then.”

Cloud had done his best to hide his smile at the thought of Merryweather fearlessly taking on the great General Sephiroth. He likes Merlin and the fairies. They’re helping with the reconstruction of Radiant Garden, and happen to be some of the new faces he sees in his happier dreams around that huge dinner table. However, as amusing as the tale of the encounter is, the news that there doesn’t seem to be any quick remedy for his broken bones isn’t good.

He shares Sephiroth’s bed at night. The older man had offered to bring in some kind of cot or make up a pallet on the floor after the first night, but Cloud had told him not to be stupid. It was Sephiroth’s bed, it was more than big enough for two...and the thought of kicking the man out of his own bed had made Cloud feel even twitchier than being nursed back to health by him. The first night had been a fluke. He just wasn’t used to sharing a bed with anyone, and in his pain delirium, he’d simply subconsciously responded to Sephiroth’s body. He’d told himself that now that he was aware of it, he’d be able to keep it from happening again. It’d also help, he’d reasoned, that he’d demanded and received his drawers back from the man. Freshly laundered and folded, too , he;d thought, refusing to examine too closely how that made him feel.

Not being totally naked has helped a little. He doesn’t feel quite as vulnerable and at Sephiroth’s mercy this way. He had, however, grossly underestimated the influence of the tall, muscular, perfectly sculpted body of his caretaker and jailer. He’d awakened on the second day with an erection just as insistent as the first one. Sephiroth’s reaction, however, hadn’t been the same at all. He hadn’t been snarky or mocked Cloud about it at least, but he’d gotten out of bed to get dressed.

“I’m sorry to disappoint you,” he’d said, pulling on his pants. “But a few minutes’ gratification isn’t worth the risk of destroying what healing has occurred. Every time you do anything that distracts you from being careful of those broken bones, you increase the risk of something truly unfortunate happening. You’ve simply got to hold that wing completely still as much as possible.” And he’d walked out to get breakfast, leaving Cloud flushed with embarrassment and grinding his teeth against the urge to beg the bastard to change his mind. The erection had gone away eventually, but Cloud had been edgy all day.

On the third day, Sephiroth had glanced down at the bulge in Cloud’s shorts and raised an eyebrow.

“Really, Cloud, you’re going to have to learn some self-restraint if you want your wing to heal,” he’d commented. Cloud had glared at him resentfully.

“It’s not like it’s a conscious choice, you asshole. Why don’t you just go away and I’ll just…”

“Take the matter in hand?” Sephiroth had smirked knowingly at him while fastening his flies.

“Whatever,” Cloud had muttered, turning his head away. He’d very nearly yelped when Sephiroth’s strong fingers had gripped his jaw tightly and forced him to turn back to look into those gleaming green eyes. Gaia, can the bastard not make some noise when he moves?

“Just think for a moment, silly fool. Think about how it feels when you come…”

“Not really helping,” Cloud had gritted out through his teeth.

“Think about which muscle groups in your body clench when you climax. Most of them, some of the time, but which ones primarily?”

Cloud had thought about it, his cheeks flaming. Ass, thighs...his back. He’d sighed heavily, and jerked his chin out of Sephiroth’s grasp.

“I get it. Fine. I’ll just...Oh, go away.”

And Sephiroth had done so, for a little while anyway, returning with a tray containing bowls of steaming oatmeal, swimming with cream and sugar and butter, and a platter piled with eggs and sausage. He’s been feeding Cloud really well, after the first day when Cloud had felt too sick from pain to stomach much of anything. Cloud wonders where he’s getting the currency in this world to purchase everything, but hasn’t asked. He’s not complaining. He feels ravenous at every mealtime. He understands his body is using up extra calories to heal itself, because he can remember his life before he’d entered the SOLDIER program and injuries had become a non-issue. At least, he can remember some of it, thanks to Tifa. He supposes there will always be a few gaps. He has a lot of reasons to hate ShinRa, but the enhanced healing and recovery the Mako had given him are not among them. He misses those abilities now with a vengeance.

He doesn’t understand why this is happening to him. Not his injuries. He’s had the displeasure of encountering the one named Xemnas before. It’s a little chilling, actually, how much the monster reminds him of Sephiroth in some ways. No , he corrects himself, because this fucking voice in his head lately has become perversely insistent on forcing Cloud to be brutally honest with himself, of the way Sephiroth was before. He has no trouble believing the leader of the Nobodies would go to lengths like this to get Cloud out of the way. He’s nearly as obsessed with Sora and others like him as Sephiroth often seems with Cloud. Just not...in a personal way. There’s also the fact that it’s really seemed for a while now that Sephiroth’s interest in Cloud really does seem to be aimed at helping him. In some strange and twisted ways sometimes, but...he’s been a lot less conflicted recently.

No, what he doesn’t understand is why he’s waking up every morning with the persistent erections of a schoolboy. He sort of wishes he’d taken Sephiroth up on his offer to make other sleeping arrangements for himself, but it’s too late now. Now it would mean admitting to the man that he finds his closeness a distraction, and he’s not ready to admit that. To Sephiroth. Or, apparently, to himself. That being so near to that breathtaking body is driving him slowly mad. That he wants to reach out to Sephiroth and touch him, even to beg for his touch in return. That opening his eyes to the sight of that heartbreakingly beautiful face in repose makes him forget how to breathe for a little while. Sephiroth looks almost impossibly young in his sleep. His face relaxes, and the lines caused by the memories that haunt him smooth out. His eyelashes are absurdly long and dark, and rest against his cheeks like soft lace. His sinful mouth will sometimes drop open just a little as he sleeps, a soft sigh drifting out. Occasionally he makes some small sound, and these noises remind Cloud all too much of sex noises. Okay, fine, so he knows damn well why he’s waking up every morning with the persistent erections of a schoolboy. He’s just furious with himself for feeling this way!

On the fourth morning, while Cloud reclines sullenly on his right side, the only position in which he can feed himself since Sephiroth won’t let him sit up yet, his cock throbbing merrily between his thighs, Sephiroth hands him a potion and informs him that he’ll be going out for an hour or so.

“Why?” asks Cloud, his mouth full of toasted bread and fried egg.

“I need to...acquire supplies. I’m unused to providing food for two people, and the cupboards and icebox have grown a bit sparse. I’ve almost run out of potions as well. I’m giving you as many as is safe every day, because I know you hate this, Cloud, but I...I’m not willing to risk other aspects of your health by giving you too many of them at a time.”

“Can’t you just send your cook?” asks Cloud curiously, although he can’t help thinking he finds the idea of Sephiroth shopping to be both fascinating and a little hilarious. Sephiroth blinks at him in surprise.

“I don’t have servants here,” he says, shrugging one shoulder.

“Well then, whoever’s making us all these mea….no way.”

“What are you talking about, Cloud? Have you got a fever? There hasn’t been anyone but you and I in this tower since I took up residence in it shortly after we were brought here. And before you ask, I didn’t kill anyone to get it. It was abandoned. I used a little magic to make some repairs.”

“But...but that means that you... you’re the one cooking all this food?”

“I don’t know why you look so surprised,” Sephiroth replies, looking oddly discomfited. “I’ve lived by myself most of my life, and military cooking can really be atrocious.”

“I just...I had no idea you could cook! That’s...um. It’s...good.” His eyes narrow as one of his thoughts from earlier occurs to him again. “And anyway, where are you getting funds to pay for things like this?”

“I slaughter innocent people for money, of course,” Sephiroth says coolly. “Are you finished eating? I’ll take your plate before I go, or you can set it aside when you’re done and I’ll clear it later.” His voice has taken on the bland, cool arrogant tone Cloud is coming to recognize as one Sephiroth uses when he doesn’t want anyone to be able to tell what he’s really feeling. Cloud realizes with a stab of guilt that his question has hurt the older man’s feelings.

“I’m sorry,” he says softly. “I didn’t mean it to come out sounding like I thought you’d stolen it or...done something else. It’s just that none of us who come from other worlds seem to have jobs here. And I’m tired. And my wing aches like a damn toothache.”

Sephiroth nods once, and the sudden tension that had marked his reaction to Cloud’s accusatory words and tone relaxes a bit.

“There are a few people in a town nearby with whom I’ve made cautious contact. They have use for some of my skills in exchange for trade or currency. I have no intention of revealing to them the extent of my abilities, so each of them thinks I’m some minor wizard who’s trying to scrape by. A bit of healing for a wealthy noble who has an aging mother, a couple of merchants who pay for minor enchantments, that sort of thing.”

“Huh,” says Cloud, “that’s actually pretty smart. Not many of us here have given a lot of thought to actually doing anything like...making a living. Most everyone’s still trying to figure out what the hell we’re doing here, so rebuilding Radiant Garden seems to be our way of...keeping busy until something starts to make sense.”

Sephiroth nods, and takes Cloud’s breakfast dishes away when he indicates he’s finished with them. He leaves the room, then returns a few minutes later to finish getting dressed. It shouldn’t surprise him that Sephiroth has come up with something like this. He’s always been a brilliant tactician, and finding a way to blend with this world without drawing too much attention to himself is definitely a good idea from a tactical standpoint. It’s probably why Sephiroth seems to know more about what’s going on in this world than most of the rest of them do. He’s keeping his head down (except when it comes to Cloud, of course) and his eyes and ears open. He does think it’s pretty funny that the people here doing business with the man think him to be some minor enchanter, and wonders what their reaction would be if they found out they were actually dealing with one of the greatest warriors this world or any other has ever known.

He quaffs the potion, then waits impatiently while Sephiroth spends a few minutes checking all his injuries.

“The wounds on your body are essentially healed,” he finally proclaims, at which Cloud heaves a sigh of relief. “How does your wing feel?”

“It...still hurts,” admits Cloud reluctantly. He’d thought about lying, because if he doesn’t get out of here soon, he really thinks he may lose his mind, but even he isn’t pigheaded enough to risk moving so many healing breaks before they’re ready and ending up right back where he’d started. “But not as much as yesterday.”

“Hm. I’ll remove the dressings on the ones that broke through the skin and see how they look. In another day or so, we may be able to bind it to your body so you can sit up and move around a little.”

This cheers Cloud considerably, and he bids his caretaker goodbye when Sephiroth heads out to get the things he needs. Sephiroth, of course, reminds him again to rest and not try to move his wing, at which Cloud rolls his eyes and wonders whether throwing the mug beside the bed that always contains something to drink at Sephiroth’s head would be counted as not resting. He flops back over onto his stomach when the door closes, then groans when this brings his groin into contact with the bedding. He’s only half hard now, as opposed to hard enough to hammer nails with his dick, but the friction reminds him forcibly of his frustration.

He lays there for quite a while considering it. Of course their conversation from the day before is still clear enough in his mind, but then, yesterday the rest of his body had still been on the mend as well, and today those wounds are little more than faint red marks and small scars. He rationalizes that if so much progress on those injuries has been made in a day, it stands to reason that his wing has gotten a lot better too. Sephiroth will be gone for more than an hour. He’s not going to be able to take very much more of this constant frustration, especially if he’s going to be stuck here for several more days. Besides, it hadn’t hurt him when Sephiroth had… done that thing with his hand...to both of them. Fuck, if he’s not in control enough of his body to keep the rest of him still while he does something as mundane as jerk off, he’s got no business calling himself a warrior. Just once, he thinks. It’ll take the edge off and I’ll be able to ignore it from now on. Besides, this kind of frustration can’t be good for the healing process, right? That makes sense.

Finally he just doesn’t care. His stupid dick is hard again just thinking about it, and he can’t take it anymore. He rolls back onto his right side and reaches slowly inside the waistband of his shorts, pushing them down just enough to curl his fingers around his shaft and draw it out. His eyes fall shut and he bites back a soft moan. Oh, Goddess, it feels good. He concentrates on not moving his body, on not letting his hips rock as his fingers give his cock a long stroke, root to tip. Because it makes his prick twitch and throb in his hand, he imagines that he can’t move. That he’s immobilized, helpless. His thumb strokes the sensitive cluster of nerves just under the head of his cock and he gasps softly. Shit, this isn’t going to take very long at all. He can practically hear Sephiroth’s dark, wicked chuckle as he approaches Cloud’s helpless body, promises of dire and tantalizing torment in his eyes. Can almost hear that low, rich voice purring dangerously…

“Oh Cloud, you naughty boy.”

His eyes snap open and his body jerks in startled horror. He chokes on a short, anguished cry as his surprise almost causes him to roll onto his back. Sephiroth stands in the doorway watching him. His face is expressionless, but his eyes burn with a ferocity Cloud can’t discern between anger or arousal. Of course, sometimes with Sephiroth there’s not a lot of difference.

“Wh...what the fuck are you doing here?” says Cloud hotly, covering his embarrassment with aggression. Oh, Gaia...caught with his dick in his hand like a naughty little boy. Kill me now, he thinks bleakly.

“I live here,” says Sephiroth with a smirk, stepping into the room.

“Ugh, asshole,” growls Cloud, awkwardly stuffing his erection back into his shorts and rolling back onto his stomach again, muffling a pained sound at the sharp twinge of pain in his back. “I mean what are you doing back ? You’re supposed to be gone for an hour.”

“Hm,” says Sephiroth, stopping right at the edge of the bed and looming over him with an indecipherable expression on his face. “I don’t believe I owe you any kind of explanation for my comings and goings. But as it happens, I was preoccupied when I left, and forgot a list I’d made of some things I wanted to remember to pick up. A good thing I did, too. Imagine my surprise, finding you disobeying me so soon.”

“Oh fuck you, Sephiroth. You’re not my boss.”

“I’ve brought you into my home, gone to considerable difficulty to tend to your injuries and take care of you during your recovery at my own expense. You’re welcome to get up and walk out that door right now, if it’s what you’d prefer, though I don’t think you’d make it very far. But until you’re ready to do that, little boy, I am the one in charge here. You’ll just have to come to terms with that, or suffer for it.”

“I AM SUFFERING FOR IT!” yells Cloud furiously.

“Not enough,” hisses Sephiroth. His hand slams down on Cloud’s right wrist, gripping it so tightly the bones grind together. Cloud tries to twist so he can punch the bastard with his other hand, but the movement send shard of agony lancing down his spine. He turns his head and bites Sephiroth’s arm. Sephiroth grunts and his eyes narrow. “Clearly, you have no idea how much trouble you’re in right now.” Then, ignoring Cloud’s struggles, he buckles the leather cuffs onto the smaller man’s wrists and chains them to the headboard again. Cloud tries to kick him when Sephiroth moves down to his feet, but his captor avoids this with depressing ease. In minutes, Cloud finds himself bound helplessly to the bed once again on his stomach, panting and blinking back tears of frustration and helplessness.

“Fuck you,” he mutters into his pillow.

“I don’t have time to punish you right now, so I’m just going to leave you here to think about your position while I’m gone. I’ll deal with you when I return,” says Sephiroth in an almost pleasant tone of voice. And leaves him there.

Cloud waits until he’s sure the man is gone, then screams into the pillow. He screams out his pain, frustration, and impotent anger. He screams until his throat is raw. He spends a good twenty minutes pulling at the cuffs until his wrists and ankles are sore, but accomplishes nothing except for turning himself on even more. Giving up, he spends the rest of the time flipping back and forth in his mind from planning ways to kill Sephiroth and wondering what Sephiroth is going to do to him.

When Sephiroth returns around an hour later (though it seems more like ten hours to Cloud), he sets a parcel down on the small table. Cloud can hear the faint clink of glass against glass inside it and assumes it contains more healing potions. There’s something in his other hand. Cloud frowns when he recognizes the brush Sephiroth uses on his knee-length, silver hair. It is made from wood, sanded smooth and polished, with bristles made from some kind of animal hair or whiskers. Seeing it in Sephiroth’s hand doesn’t make sense. Not right now anyway. Sephiroth’s choosing a time like this to engage in personal grooming?

But Sephiroth strolls over to the bed and sits down on the edge, still holding it. His fingers trail up the back of Cloud’s leg and over the rounded curves of his ass to toy with the waistband of his shorts. They stop, then continue up the long line of Cloud’s spine. He shudders, sucking in his breath as gooseflesh ripples in the wake of Sephiroth’s touch. The fingers brush lightly around his wing’s joint, then exert more pressure, carefully probing the muscles. Cloud groans into the pillow.

“Does this hurt?” asks Sephiroth. Cloud shakes his head. The fingers press a little harder, massaging away some of the tension that has built up around the joint, caused by pain and disuse. It’s sheer bliss. “Still no pain?”

“No,” Cloud responds breathlessly.

“Good,” says Sephiroth, removing his hand and sitting up straight. “Then I don’t think this is going to cause you any lasting damage.”

“You don’t….what?” asks Cloud, thoroughly confused.

“Your punishment,” says Sephiroth, and abruptly yanks Cloud’s shorts down past his hips to the middle of his thighs. Cloud yelps when this drags the fabric roughly over his cock. The wood of the back of the hairbrush feels cool when Sephiroth rubs it in slow circles over his exposed backside. The presence of the grooming implement becomes abruptly and menacingly clear.

“You can’t,” he gasps, embarrassment coloring his face and making his ears burn. Conflicting emotions tangle in his guts, making his stomach churn with equal parts nervousness, humiliation, desire, and terror.

“I assure you that I can,” says Sephiroth smugly. “And I’m going to. You disobeyed me. Not only that, but you’ve been taunting me for days.”

“Taunting you?” Cloud’s voice is incredulous. “I’ve been taunting you ?”

“Definitely. The sight of you, wounded and dependent on me is bad enough. But flaunting the evidence of your desire when I can do nothing about it? I think I told you on the first day what happens to little boys who tease.”

“You think I’m doing it on purpose??”

“I know you’re not,” Sephiroth says, obviously totally unconcerned about logic. “But that’s irrelevant. This is more about your refusal to obey me and take care of yourself. That I’m also getting a bit of revenge for the other is just a happy coincidence.” With that, he raises the hairbrush up above his shoulder and brings it down with a sharp crack on Cloud’s left cheek, followed closely by the right.

“Ah! Fuck, that hurts !” Cloud curses. The innocuous wooden implement bites like a wasp’s sting on his naked flesh.

“Be still, or I will use my magic to bind your whole body, and you won’t like it,” says Sephiroth sharply. Cloud stops squirming and lays still, trembling. The hairbrush descends again, and again, imparting its evil bite. His ass is hot, stinging and smarting all over in seconds. The pain is startling, and in his overwrought state, Cloud finds to his horror that tears spring up in his eyes in less than two minutes while Sephiroth methodically paddles him like a naughty little boy, all over the cheeks of his ass and the backs of his upper thighs.

“Stop, stop it,” he pants breathlessly, his throat burning with the tears and cries he struggles to contain. “I’m sorry, okay? I won’t do it again. Fuck , Sephiroth, that really hurts!”

“Good,” growls Sephiroth, spanking him harder. “You’re being punished. It’s supposed to hurt. I won’t have you damaging yourself, my foolish toy, or I won’t be able to play with you anymore. I thought you might be dead , Cloud. When I found you out there. Then, seeing your wing like that? Mangled and crushed like...No. I won’t have it. You won’t put me through that again. I’ll stop when I decide you’ve learned your lesson.”

In addition to the annoyance and lust he clearly recognizes in the tone of Sephiroth’s voice, Cloud can hear something else. It sounds like fear. Like Sephiroth had been afraid for him. Afraid...of what? Losing him? Not getting to be the one who kills him eventually? Don’t be stupid , says that voice. He’d choose his own death first, if there were no other choice. Cloud is starting to believe this may be true, no matter how much he chooses to deny it. They’ve fought so many times he can’t remember them all. Sephiroth is better than him, by a long shot. There have been more times than he likes to admit that he’s wondered whether Sephiroth, whether consciously or not, has on occasion allowed Cloud to defeat him. Because apparently, no matter what happens, so long as Cloud exists, Sephiroth will too.

Sephiroth keeps up the steady, stinging repetition of punishing smacks with the brush, and its nasty bite, combined with Cloud’s weakened condition and the sudden knowledge of his lover’s feelings (Cloud finds it surprisingly less bitter to think of Sephiroth as his lover than he ever has before, all of a sudden), is quickly too much. Cloud cries out in pain. Sephiroth growls deep in his chest.

“That's right. Show me how sorry you are. Let me hear it,” he says, laying into the crease where Cloud’s ass and thighs meet.

“I’m sorry,” Cloud chokes, a sob hitching in his chest. Tears blur his vision.

“Not good enough,” snarls Sephiroth, still blazing away at his burning skin. Cloud wails in pain, and stops trying to hold back. His shoulder shake a little as he cries, but he holds the rest of his body valiantly still and accepts the pain. It’s a relief to cry, as if he feels his fear and frustration draining out, carried from his body in the torrent of his tears.

“I’m suh-sorry,” he sobs. “Sorry I sc-scared you. Ah! Sorry I duh-didn’t listen. I w-wanted you suh-so much. It doesn’t st-stop. F-fuck . Want you s...so bad. Driving...hah...driving me cr-crazy. Se...Seph... please . Stop, please STOP!”

The hairbrush clatters to the floor and Cloud slumps in relief that it’s over. He smashes his face, wet with tears and snot, into the pillow and cries like a child. Goddess, it feels good. Sephiroth’s cool fingers on his blazing skin feel even better. He moans helplessly through his tears. The touch is soothing, but arouses him too.

“Can you be still?” asks Sephiroth softly. His fingers part the raw, reddened cheeks of Cloud’s ass, and a finger ghosts over his hole. “Can you hold still and just take what I give you?”

“Yes,” breathes Cloud, his voice cracking a little because his throat is sore from screaming earlier and tight with the nearly frantic desire to promise Sephiroth his very soul if the man will only keep touching him. “I p...I promise.” He’s not really in his right mind enough right now to wonder at how quickly his sobs fade to soft crying at Sephiroth’s gentle, calming touch. Heat pools in his groin. He hardly dares breathe for fear that Sephiroth will change his mind, or that this is all some cruel joke to show him the futility of disobedience.

“If you move,” purrs Sephiroth, who had removed his finger a few moments ago but now reintroduces it, now slippery and cool with lubricant, “I will stop whatever I’m doing. I will relieve my own needs all over your punished ass. I’ll lubricate the largest plug I have with something unpleasant that will make your tight little hole itch and sting like mad and force it inside you. I’ll leave it there, the rest of the day and all night long, and tomorrow when I take it out, I will repeat this little demonstration with the hairbrush. And I’ll do all of it as many times as it takes for you to learn your lesson.”

“Ngh,” says Cloud, who is now going to be plagued mentally by that little scenario for possibly the rest of his life.

Sephiroth chuckles and slowly presses his finger past Cloud’s tightly clenching sphincter muscle and all of the way into his body. He pulls it almost all the way out, until just the tip of his finger is still inside Cloud’s body, then pauses, flexing and twisting it lightly. Cloud takes a mouthful of the pillowcase between his teeth and bites it.

“If you tear that, I’ll wait until you’re feeling better and make you mend it while I grind that phallus you’re so fond of into your prostate for as long as it takes for you to finish it to my satisfaction,” comments Sephiroth, and pushes his finger all the way back in.

He fingers Cloud with that one single finger for what seems like an age, slowly and deeply, occasionally giving a soft, beckoning crook of it as he pulls it out in just exactly the right spot to make Cloud see stars. It’s torture, to lie there unmoving and let Sephiroth have his way with him, but at the same time it’s exhilarating. Cloud trembles from head to toe, but he doesn’t move.

“More,” he whispers.

“You are being very good,” muses Sephiroth. When he pulls his finger out entirely, Cloud chokes off his whimper of desolation only to have it transformed into a deeply approving groan of pleasure when Sephiroth starts again, with two fingers this time. In all the times they’ve come together, it’s never been like this. Cloud doesn’t want tenderness from this man. What’s between them is something primal, raw and ferocious in its energy. If Sephiroth were to treat him this way while he’s at his best, he’s pretty sure it would just piss him off. But his injured state, the vulnerability it forces on him, is a kind of bondage of its own, added to the physical bonds at his wrists and ankles. It makes him dizzy with anticipation and desire. He’s more completely at Sephiroth’s mercy than he ever has been, so the slow and careful preparation of his body is, in its own way, as ruthless...as brutal...as any of the other times Sephiroth has claimed him.

By the time a third finger is added, Cloud is nearly incoherent with want. Not moving so that Sephiroth won’t stop, and the gentle stretch and tug of his fingers opening Cloud’s twitching hole are the only focal points of his existence. Everything narrows down to those to things. Time passing, the deep, dull ache of his wing, the clamoring need to be fucked, his own aching cock...these all nearly cease to matter. He’s hyperfocused on every minute sensation of Sephiroth fingering him open. The delicious sensitivity of the puckered flesh right at his entrance. The almost crippling vulnerability of the ever widening stretch of the tight ring of muscle less than an inch inside his body. The way Sephiroth’s fingertips stroke the warm, soft inner lining of his insides. The breathtaking sparks of almost too intense pleasure when those fingertips stroke and press the small bundle of nerves a few inches inside. With every ounce of his willpower going towards keeping his body still, he has no defense against his desire for this man. None.

“Fuck me,” he whispers. “Please. Want to feel you inside. So deep. Goddess, you’re so big. Hurts like a bitch sometimes. Want you so much. Fucking me. Taking me. Please, I’m ready. Now, oh now. Seph...Sephiroth. Please !”

Sephiroth’s soft laugh shivers over his skin. It feels almost as good as his feathers when they ghost over Cloud’s skin like a sigh.

“I have seldom seen you as beautiful as you are to me right now,” he whispers, carefully spreading his fingers until Cloud’s breath whines at the small burn. “I hope the fight in you, that bright and indomitable spirit that calls to me, never changes, Cloud. I really do. But like this, utterly pliant to my touch and my command...this is exquisite too.”

Cloud’s glad his face is hidden in his pillow when Sephiroth says these things. Goddess, how embarrassing to admit that it’s true, and yet he can’t find it in himself to be ashamed. Part of the reason he submits to Sephiroth right now is because he’s gotten so desperate over the past few days that he’d do almost anything for release. But there’s another part of him that has to admit that Sephiroth has earned a large measure of his trust. Allowing himself to be so vulnerable does make him nervous, but he’s not afraid . . Sephiroth may hurt him sometimes, and if he’s being honest, he doesn’t want that to stop. But Sephiroth won’t harm him anymore. Begging Sephiroth to take him, to fuck him, ceases to mean he’s lost some kind of contest. He’s pretty sure the only one he’s really been fighting is himself.

“Please,” he says again.

“Do you think you can be a good boy for me?” teases Sephiroth. Cloud rolls his eyes. The man’s never going to not be a bastard.

“Never,” says Cloud, because he’s never going to not be a bastard either. “But I’m not gonna move.”

Sephiroth chuckles and leans over him. His hair glides over Cloud’s heated skin as he leans down to brush his lips lightly over Cloud’s shoulders.

“I can work with that,” he murmurs.

Cloud’s breath hitches when the blunt, thick head of Sephiroth’s cock presses against his entrance. It goes against his instincts not to brace himself, but he forces his body to relax. Sephiroth nudges with his hips, and Cloud feels his asshole slowly spread around his cock. There’s no eye watering burn of intrusion. His body accepts it easily. The stretch, the astonishing sense of fullness is there, but it doesn’t hurt. It surprises him so much that for a few moments, he can’t feel anything but his surprise. He’s always assumed that, due to his sheer girth, sex with Sephiroth would always involve at least some degree of pain. Which, since he’s apparently some kind of raging freak, has also never bothered him. At all.

Of course, the moment the head of Sephiroth’s cock presses against his sweet spot as he slowly pushes into Cloud’s body, surprise is replaced by bone-melting pleasure.

“Hah,” he gasps, and a shudder rolls through him in spite of his body’s pliant acceptance of this slow, achingly sweet violation. “S-sorry, wasn’t on purpose,” he pants breathlessly.

“Oh, you’re forgiven,” purrs Sephiroth. “Your body’s honest reaction pleases me more than you know. It’s only voluntary movement you’re forbidden.” Cloud muffles his laughter into the pillow. “Would you care to share what exactly is so amusing?” From his tone of voice, Sephiroth’s question is more of a demand.

“I was just thinking that you can’t help being an ass any more than I can help pushing you into it,” admits Cloud, then cries out helplessly when Sephiroth’s response is to bury his cock the rest of the way up Cloud’s ass with a short snap of his hips.

“Ngh. Oh fuck, don’t stop,” he gasps. His toes curl with his desire to buck his hips up into Sephiroth, but he doesn’t.

Sephiroth doesn’t stop. He keeps his weight off Cloud’s body, careful to do nothing that might jar his injured wing. Their only connection is the thick, heavy cock sliding slowly in and out of Cloud’s tight heat, rubbing over his prostate with every precise and careful thrust. Were it not for the pronounced frustration he’s been living with for the past several days, the pace would probably not be enough. But he has, and so it is. Within minutes, he can feel his desire mounting, heat building in his belly, beating slow and steady in his blood.

“Am I causing you any pain?”

Sephiroth’s question surprises him a little, but the tone in his voice does so even more. Cloud can hear the strain in it. Sephiroth’s control is legendary, so that he’s not bothering to try to conceal his own arousal somehow enhances Cloud’s even more.

“No. Goddess, no. I’m close. Hngh. S-so close. You can...ah! Can move a little faster. If you want to,” he manages, even though he’s nearly breathless with his own rising need. Sephiroth growls softly. His next thrust is a little harder, a little faster, and Cloud moans helplessly as he’s pushed closer and closer to the point of no return.

“Nn. Ohh, Cloud.” Sephiroth leans down to breathe the words in his ear. “Taking you slowly like this, I can feel every tiny flinch and clutch of your body around me. So warm inside if feels as though you’re melting on my cock.”

That wicked, sinful voice in his ear, coupled with Sephiroth’s skillful sensual assault on his body is too much. The pleasure is almost too intense, the waves washing over him with a force he’s never experienced. He howls as he comes, his hole clenching so hard around Sephiroth’s cock that it aches. Sephiroth lets out a startled gasp, but keeps fucking him through it. Cloud is so consumed by his own body’s pleasure that he’s only dimly aware of it when Sephiroth’s thrusts grow erratic and his breath comes short and he lets go of his control, his powerful body shuddering as his cock pulses and fills his body with warmth.

Cloud shivers when Sephiroth carefully withdraws, his body still so sensitive from the shattering pleasure that he can’t help it. Sephiroth unbuckles the cuffs from his wrists and ankles, then reclines on the bed beside him, leaning on his elbow while his fingers trace some of the marks his hairbrush has left on Cloud’s ass.

“Tell me then, do you feel sufficiently punished?” he asks, amusement evident in his voice.

“You do realize that wasn’t exactly what I’d call very good motivation for me to keep my hands out of my own pants from now on, don’t you?” says Cloud, turning his head so he can look up at the other man with an utterly unrepentant grin.

“Ah yes,” muses Sephiroth, then eyes him with a smirk. “But if you do it again, I’ll be forced to discipline you even more severely.”

“Still not seeing the motivation.”

“You will when I refuse to allow you to come if you do it again.”

“Damn you, Sephiroth,” complains Cloud. “Hand me another potion.”

Chapter Text

Leaving the small stone tower is a relief. It’s been his prison for the better part of two weeks, and he’s been going stir crazy for at least nine of the past eleven days. He’s completely healed, and thanks to Sephiroth coming up with some creative and sometimes terrifying ways to exercise unused muscles, up to and including using a modified lighting spell to make various muscle groups contract without Cloud having to actually move them, he hasn’t even lost very much mass or flexibility. He rolls his eyes a little thinking of that one. The bastard really is still crazy. It worked, though, didn’t it? Ugh. Stupid voice. Still, he can’t really argue. His wing settles easily and comfortably against his back under his cloak. He’s grateful to the man, he really is, but he can’t wait to get back to his friends. And he’s had more than his fill of Sephiroth to last for at least a year. Possibly more. It’s a huge relief to put that place behind him. He’s not going to miss it, or the man who lives there. At all.

His feet slow a little and he glances back behind him. The tower is dark against the twilight sky, the only light showing from any of the windows is the faint glow of candlelight from Sephiroth’s bedroom window. Heat brings a flush to his cheeks as images of some of the things that have happened in that room flash through his mind. He can easily recall Sephiroth saying with a completely straight face that sex was perfectly good cardiovascular exercise before mercilessly turning him into a quivering pile of helpless goo. While the rest of his body is healed, he’s pretty sure his ass is going to be sore for weeks. He shakes his head, then resolutely turns his back again and keeps walking.

It is good to be back in Radiant Garden. His friends are used to him vanishing for days at a time, going off to explore, or hunt heartless, or brood. A few of them, like Aerith and Tifa and Yuffie, ask if he’s okay, but don’t push for details when he says yes. He throws himself into helping with the reconstruction. A lot of progress has been made, and more and more people are coming back to live here. It’s a nice town, with mostly friendly residents. It’s even starting to feel like home, especially on the nights they all gather to have dinner together around a huge table Leon and Cid had built out of salvaged timbers that sits in a courtyard outside the house Aerith has claimed for herself. It’s just as noisy and filled with laughter as his dreams about it are.

He finds himself settling into a routine. Get up in the morning, grab a piece of fruit for breakfast as he heads out the door. Meet up with Leon to go over what needs to be done that day. Spend a couple of hours clearing debris, then have lunch with whoever’s around back at Aerith’s place. Aerith’s a better cook than any three of the rest of them combined. He firmly squashes the voice in his head that tries to remind him that Sephiroth’s cooking is just as good. After lunch, he either helps out on another project that needs nothing more than brute force to get it done, or he patrols the town and its surrounding countryside for skulking heartless. No matter how many times they clear the town of the disgusting things, more always seem to pop up. He’s not going to take off into the wilds on his own in search of them anymore. He’s learned his lesson, and has no desire to end up a helpless invalid again.

I’m happy here, he tells himself, standing by the open window of the place he’s claimed, watching the sun set over the roofs and small spires of Radiant Garden. And he is, really. Or mostly is. He’s learned a few things about himself, and no longer struggles so much with feeling unworthy of being in the same room with them. There is darkness in him. There probably always will be, but it doesn’t make him evil. But maybe there’s at least a little darkness in almost everyone, with the possible exception of Aerith. It isn’t so much the presence of darkness that matters as it does what you do with it. He can hear Sephiroth telling him to use it, not to let it use him. So when he can sense it starting to pick at him, or when he has the nightmare about being trapped in the dark with those yellow eyes (they’re never green anymore) watching him, he doesn’t wait until it gets so bad it crowds out his ability to see anything else. He works himself into exhaustion, or he goes hunting, and uses his anger and his darker side to do something. And it works. The nightmare goes away again.

So he’s learning to manage the nightmares. It’s other dreams he’s having trouble dealing with. He doesn’t understand why he’s having them. These sorts of dreams have always gone hand in hand with the nightmares. Dreams of pain and pleasure, of being helpless and used for another’s pleasure, of being forced to submit, or being punished for being a bad little boy...he’s come to understand that these dreams were a reflection of how to manage his darker side. That his encounters with Sephiroth did help drive it away, and that Sephiroth’s willingness to drink down the dark side of him had always helped him keep it from controlling him. Now that he’s learned how to control it himself, why is he still having them? Why does he find himself looking off to the South, in the direction of that lone, stone tower so often when he isn’t even aware he’s doing it? The morning erections are getting just as bad as they’d been when he’d been Sephiroth’s helpless patient. Possibly worse, because jerking off doesn’t help at all. It’s the same thing the next morning, and goes on and on, day after day.

“This is his fault,” he mutters to himself. He’s just outside of town, having finished exterminating a small group of Shadows that someone had reported seeing earlier today. Shadows are easy to kill, and represent no real threat to him. He hadn’t even broken a sweat, but the fight has left him edgy with excess energy, and even though he’s been looking for over an hour, he can’t find any more of them to destroy. “He did something to me. He must have. Sending me these stupid dreams or something.”

He can’t do that, says the voice in his head in an irritatingly reasonable tone. He doesn’t have that power.

“Oh shut up,” he growls, shaking his head. “You don’t know. Just because he didn’t have the power before doesn’t mean he hasn’t learned how to do it here.” He kicks a loose stone out of the way and looks up. His feet slow, and he stumbles over another loose rock, catching himself before he falls. Fuck if he hasn’t been walking South for the past several minutes without even realizing it. He sighs and turns around to head back home, but finds that his legs won’t cooperate with him. He stands there for several minutes, his hands clenched into tight fists at his sides, head down, fighting with himself. “Fine,” he says angrily, after a lengthy internal debate that doesn’t really resolve anything in his head. “I’ll make the bastard tell me what he’s done!” He turns on his heel, facing South again, and stomps off towards his enemy’s tower.

Will you stop calling him that? Would an enemy have done the things he’s done for you? He’s not your enemy anymore, and hasn’t been for a long time.

“What the fuck am I supposed to call him, then?” he asks himself. The suggestions that come to mind aren’t even a little bit helpful with the mood he’s in. Lover. Savior. Friend. Master. “Oh no you don’t. Fuck that last one, I’m not calling him that!”

He’s managed to work himself into such a state that, by the time he reaches Sephiroth’s tower, a four story edifice made of mossy, crumbling gray rock with a footprint about the same size as his own house with its four rooms, he pounds on the heavy, iron-bound door as loudly as he can. Which entails hammering at it with his sword’s pommel. He can hear the echo of it faintly through the tower’s stone walls.

“Open up, Sephiroth,” he yells. “Open your fucking door and face me, you bastard!”

Several minutes pass, and he’s raising his fist to pound on it some more when the door swings open and he has to stagger a little to keep from falling through it and into Sephiroth’s arms. Sephiroth, for his part, doesn’t look particularly like the sort of person who’s currently involved in a nefarious plot to drive Cloud insane. He’s not wearing his coat or his armor. He’s not even wearing shoes. He stands in the doorway clad only in his pants, his silver hair moving gently in the breeze coming in through the open door.

“Cloud,” he says in a mild voice, “how nice to see you. Please do come in.” He adds the last when Cloud shoves past him and stomps inside. Sephiroth takes a moment to glance around outside before closing the door and turning to face his uninvited guest.

“What have you done to me?” growls Cloud. One of Sephiroth’s eyebrows lifts and he eyes Cloud from head to toe...and back again...in a leisurely and seriously irritating way.

“Recently?” asks Sephiroth with a tiny quirk of his lips. “Not a thing. Though if you’re here to rectify that, I certainly won’t say no.”

“Don’t lie to me, you bastard,” Cloud yells. “You’ve done some kind of spell, and I want you to undo it right now!”

“I’m afraid you’re going to have to be a bit more specific,” says Sephiroth coolly. “I can’t imagine a rational reason for you to want me to undo any of the healing I performed on you, so you’re going to have to be a bit more convincing than that.”

“Not the healing, asshole,” hisses Cloud furiously. “The...the other thing!”

Sephiroth looks at him blankly for several long moments, then turns and walks towards the stone stairs leading up, turning to glance over his shoulder.

“As interesting as this conversation is, I was about to eat supper. If you plan to explain yourself like a rational person, you’re going to have to join me. Or you can stand there and yell until you get tired of it and go home.”

Cloud watches him go with his mouth hanging open in surprise for about five seconds before he snaps his mouth closed and follows. How dare the man act so calm about this, when he’s been torturing Cloud for days on end? He shoves his sword awkwardly back into its scabbard slung over his back, because it’s way too big to wield effectively in a space like this and he’s not actually here to try to kill Sephiroth. Probably. With his bare hands, maybe, but not in a sword battle. He wants answers, and the torment to end, not blood. Unless Sephiroth refuses to break whatever spell he’s cast, that is. Steaming with frustrated anger, he storms up the stairs in Sephiroth’s wake.

He finds the target of his ire seated calmly at the table in the tower’s kitchen on the second floor. The scene is so innocuous and mundane that it feels almost surreal to see this man, barefoot and shirtless, at a table surrounded by a fireplace, a cast iron stove, an icebox and a large wooden cupboard that holds foodstuffs, spices, flour, and various dishes, pots and pans. Sephiroth pushes an empty bowl towards Cloud and gestures towards the stove where a pot of something bubbles fragrantly with his own spoon.

“Feel free to join me, if you’re hungry,” he says politely, as though Cloud hasn’t just burst into his home in a temper. Cloud has known Sephiroth for a long time though, and recognizes the glint in those mesmerizing green eyes. Sephiroth is enjoying himself.

“I didn’t come here for food, you asshole,” he says, bristling with outrage. Sephiroth smirks.

“It’s looking rather a lot as though you’re going to a lot of effort to get me to punish your bad manners,” he observes, not sounding the least bit annoyed. “But you are going to have to wait until I’ve eaten. I’m hungry, and didn’t have time for lunch.”

“That’s not why I’m here!” Cloud yells.

“Hm,” says Sephiroth, chewing a bite of whatever stew he’s made and watching Cloud with what looks suspiciously like amusement. “If you keep acting that way and insulting me, you’re going to get that whether you want it or not.”

Cloud hates both of them equally when the words hit him right in his guts with an almost crippling bolt of lust that makes him lose his footing as he paces angrily back and forth across the kitchen and he nearly stumbles. Sephiroth’s smile widens for a second, then is replaced once again by his usual mein of detached amusement.

“Just undo the spell, Sephiroth, and leave me in peace,” he demands, choosing to ignore the threat.

“At the risk of sounding repetitive, I’m going to ask you again to be more specific. To which spell are you referring?”

“Ugh. How dare you sit there and pretend you don’t know? The dreams, Sephiroth. I’m tired of them. Make them stop.”

Sephiroth sets down his spoon and looks at Cloud more closely.

“The only magic I’ve used on you, other than in combat, since we both came to this world,” he says slowly, “is what I used to help heal you. You look tired. Are your injuries causing you pain again?”

“What? No, I feel fine. If I look tired, it’s because your stupid dreams keep waking me up at night.”

“You’re having nightmares? Cloud, I’ve told you before that any time the darkness starts to become too much for you…”

“THEY’RE NOT NIGHTMARES!” Cloud howls at him, slapping his hands down on the table and leaning closer to glare right into Sephiroth’s eyes. Sephiroth doesn’t flinch, or lean back. His lips curve into a smile as filthy as it is amused.

“Interesting,” he murmurs, and takes another bite of stew.

“And I’m handling the darkness just fine on my own. I’m learning to...use it, like you said. Not to let it use me. That’s why these dreams don’t make sense. I’ve only ever had them before when I was getting to a bad place in my head. But now…” He lets out a frustrated growl and slumps down into one of the chairs. Sephiroth watches him for a minute, then stands up and turns to the stove. He fills the empty bowl from the stew pot and pushes it across the table at Cloud. It smells delicious. It looks good too, Cloud realizes when he glances down at the bowl in front of him, a rich broth brimming with big chunks of meat and vegetables. His stomach growls, and he realizes that he also hasn’t eaten anything since this morning. With a half-defeated sigh, he picks up the spoon Sephiroth has placed beside the bowl and begins eating. The stew is as good as it smells. Better.

“So you’re having naughty dreams about me, and you think I’ve cast some kind of spell on you to send them?” Sephiroth’s voice is annoyingly smug.

“Are you honestly going to sit there and tell me you didn’t? The...fucked-up things we do...I’ve only ever wanted them when things in my head got too messed up. When you...hurting me...was the only way I could let go of all the shit and find me again. I can be a big enough person to admit you were right, about me letting it get to me too easily. That I can use the strength my darker half gives me to fight, and not let it win.”

“Thank you for saying so,” says Sephiroth softly. Cloud glances up at him suspiciously, but sees no sarcasm on Sephiroth’s face, or in his eyes. “So you think that because you’ve learned to manage your moodiness, whether it was with my help or not, these dreams should have gone away.”

“Yes! Of course that’s what I’m saying! I only had them before when my head was getting fucked up about...things. Well, it’s not anymore, so there’s no reason for them. Not unless you’re sending them to me. And I’m sick of it.”

“Have you even stopped to consider the possibility that the things you want from me aren’t actually dependent on you being in a bad place mentally, but that you simply...want them? Because you just like what I do to you? That you don’t have to come to me only for catharsis, Cloud. It can be just because you want it. I do. I always have.”

Cloud blinks at Sephiroth in astonishment, the spoonful of stew he’s just scooped up suspended halfway to his mouth, forgotten.

“Are you serious?” he asks incredulously when he remembers he can speak.

“I’m not sending you these dreams, Cloud,” says Sephiroth solemnly. “I don’t have that kind of power. Believe me, seeing how worked up they’ve gotten you, I’d have done it before now if I could.”

“You’re lying,” whispers Cloud, a little desperately, because he can hear the honesty in Sephiroth’s voice, and if he is telling the truth, then the dreams are coming from Cloud himself and that’s...that can’t be right. Can it? Told you, says the voice.

“You seem to be going to rather a lot of effort to make sure the things you dream about come true, saying such things to me,” muses Sephiroth, standing up to set his bowl and spoon in a washbasin under the one window in the room. “It appears you’ve accepted that I wasn’t lying to you about the darkness in you. You’ve come to accept it, to realize it’s a part of you, and found that it doesn’t have to rule you, or define you. Why is it harder to accept that you want what you want? Do you think you’re the only person in all the worlds who’s aroused by pain, or being bound, or the thought of being punished for being bad? I can assure you that you’re not. It was like that with Angeal and Zack.”

“No way,” says Cloud, dropping his spoon into his bowl and staring at Sephiroth in shock.

“Oh yes. They weren’t the only ones, either. I’ve seen it many times. Even here. I spend a lot of time just travelling around, remaining unseen, and observing. I wish to know as much about this world as I can, to understand what’s happening, and why. You’re acquainted with the Eighth nobody of Organization XIII, I believe?”

“Axel, yeah,” says Cloud, wondering where this is going.

“I happened upon him with his young protegee, the 13th….Roxas is his name. They didn’t see me, but I certainly got quite an eyeful of them. Are you curious?”

“N-no,” mutters Cloud uncomfortably, picking his spoon up and shoving a rather overlarge mouthful of Sephiroth’s unfairly delicious stew into his mouth, because of course he’s curious but it feels a little creepy to admit it.

“Liar,” whispers Sephiroth, who sees right through him. “Well, I’ll tell you anyway. When I chanced upon them, I saw the shorter one bent over a rather large boulder with his pants around his knees, his hands tied behind his back while the red-haired one shoved his cock up the boy’s rather impressively red ass.”

Actually, it doesn’t surprise Cloud in the least to learn that Axel is a raging freak. He’s a little surprised by Roxas though. He doesn’t really know either of them, since he’s doing his best to fight against them and their leader’s goals, but his impression of Roxas has always been that the newest Nobody is something of an innocent, and too naive for his own good. It makes him feel like a voyeur, hearing about their private lives this way.

“You know it’s gross to go around spying on people like that, don’t you?” he says sullenly. Sephiroth just laughs.

“If I were peeking in people’s bedroom windows, I’d agree with you, but they were right out in the open, and I didn’t remain in the area. As soon as I realized what was happening, I left them alone. A few seconds was quite sufficient to take in the scenario, as it’s one with which I’m a bit familiar. Perhaps you’ll recall?”

Cloud’s face flushes hot as he recalls an eerily similar encounter between he and Sephiroth early on in the history of their...association...in this world. He rolls his eyes and refuses to dignify the question with a response while he scrapes up the last few bites of stew with his spoon, but he’s thinking hard. Could Sephiroth be right? Is it possible he’s just...wired this way somehow? That his desire for the filthy things this man does to his body has nothing to do with the darkness within him...or that it’s more than that, anyway? There’s no doubt that every time they’ve...had that kind of encounter since it started, he’s always felt better afterwards. Lighter somehow. More at peace, relaxed. Almost happy. He’s just always assumed that the only reason he’s drawn to Sephiroth is, in fact, for the catharsis the other man had spoken of a minute ago. The exorcism of his personal demons driven back, for a while, so he can see his way clearly again. But...to want these things just because he wants them? Him, a fighter, a man his friends look to as a protector, as someone who will always be strong?

“No,” he says as firmly as he can, “you’re wrong. I’m not...like that.”

Sephiroth’s eyes narrow for a moment, then he seems to decide it’s not worth arguing about and comes back to the table to take Cloud’s bowl and spoon. When he returns to the sink, Cloud shoves himself to his feet.

“Fine. Whatever. You say you’re not sending the dreams, and there’s nothing to prove that you are, but if I find out you’re lying to me, I’ll be back, and you’ll have to answer for it,” he says tiredly, turning to leave.

“What makes you think you’re setting one foot outside that door tonight?” Sephiroth’s voice comes out a low, menacing growl that sends a chill of anticipatory terror up Cloud’s spine. He doesn’t even have time to turn back around to face the threat before he finds himself slammed up against the wall. He manages to tilt his head back in the nick of time to avoid having his face smashed into the rough stone. All the air is knocked out of his lungs. Sephiroth’s body holds him in place, and one of his arms is yanked up behind his back high enough so that his shoulder sings with a sharp pain. If he struggles, it won’t take more much effort for Sephiroth to dislocate it.

“Let me go,” he roars furiously. Sephiroth chuckles and leans down to whisper in his ear.

“I will,” he says softly, the rich baritone rumble of his voice seeming to vibrate through Cloud’s bones. “I’ll let you go once you’ve admitted to both of us that this is what you want.”

“Not gonna happen, you bastard,” snarls Cloud, hoping he sounds more certain than he feels, because his traitorous dick likes what Sephiroth is doing to him just fine.

“So stubborn,” sighs Sephiroth. He puts Cloud in a headlock so fast and so easily it makes Cloud dizzy, and drags him from the room. At the stairs, pushes open a door that reveals more stairs going down and hauls Cloud with him. The only thing that keeps the shorter man from falling headlong down the stairs is Sephiroth’s hold on him, because he’s unable to gain any footing.

It’s darker than pitch at the bottom of the stairs, but Sephiroth makes a small gesture with his free hand while muttering the incantation for fire and several candles and a couple of small lamps flare to life, illuminating the chamber in which they stand. For the most part, it appears to be a normal storage cellar, with various crates and bags stacked on wooden shelves. There are braided bundles of onions, garlic and herbs hanging from iron hooks along one of the rafters. The rest of the room, however, bears no resemblance whatsoever to any normal cellar Cloud’s ever seen.

“You have a torture chamber in your basement?” he asks incredulously, his voice coming out a bit choked, as Sephiroth’s arm around his neck is a little too tight for comfort.

“Call it what you like,” says Sephiroth in amusement. “Apparently the former owner of this place, whoever it was, had some interesting hobbies. Or a lot of enemies. I’ve made a few adjustments, gotten rid of some of the more...lethal of their collection, and added a few things of my own.:

With that, he shoves Cloud facedown over a wooden sawhorse of some kind that has been covered with thick leather padding, keeping his arm wrenched uncomfortably behind his back. Cloud kicks and struggles, but can’t do either effectively unless he wants to damage himself. Sephiroth secures one of the leather cuffs with which Cloud is already familiar around his wrist, then hauls him to his feet. Dizzy from being shoved and dragged around as well as half choked, Cloud isn’t able to clear his head fast enough to stop Sephiroth from locking the steel ring attached to the cuff to a length of chain that hangs from the ceiling. The bastard has secured his sword arm, of course, so he can’t reach over his shoulder to draw his blade, but once the room stops spinning and his head clears, Cloud spins to face his attacker and brings his free hand up in a fist. Sephiroth laughs.

“Let me go,” shouts Cloud angrily. He takes a swing at Sephiroth only the find that the man suddenly...just isn’t there. There’s a sharp tug at his back, and his sword and scabbard fall to the floor with a loud clatter. He whirls to face Sephiroth, but the bastard does it again, and this time Cloud’s coat is yanked down his unfettered arm and tossed away. “Stop doing that,” he howls in frustrated rage. Sephiroth appears in front of him, those damned Mako eyes sparkling, the annoying smirk on his face with which Cloud’s all too familiar. He throws a savage punch, intending to wipe it right off, but Sephiroth’s hand catches his fist easily and holds it. He steps closer, and when Cloud opens his mouth to demand to be released again, Sephiroth shuts him up with a kiss that completely derails his brain.

It’s a savage kiss, a brutal claiming. He tastes blood as their lips collide and can’t tell if it’s his or Sephiroth’s. He doesn’t care. Sephiroth usually leans down a little, to make the fact that he’s considerably taller less of an issue, but he doesn’t do that now. It forces Cloud’s head back at an awkward angle as Sephiroth ravages his mouth, but he doesn’t care about that either. Lust punches in like a fist plowed into his gut, so hard his knees tremble with the effort it takes to stay on his own feet. He doesn’t even notice it when Sephiroth’s fingers release his fist to slide up and gently encircle his wrist. His other hand is cuffed above his head beside the first so fast he’s not even sure how it happens.By the time Sephiroth breaks the kiss, he’s having a hard time scraping up any sincerity with which to demand to be released.

“Damn you,” he says instead, wishing he didn’t sound just as breathless as he feels.

Sephiroth smiles. He reaches out, gently cradling Cloud’s cheek in his hand, his thumb brushing softly over kiss-swollen lips. Cloud can see a smear of blood on Sephiroth’s thumb as he slowly brings it to his mouth and licks the blood away.

“Perhaps I am damned,” murmurs Sephiroth, gazing deeply into Cloud’s eyes. Goddess, he sees too much. Cloud wishes he could look away, but it’s getting harder and harder to remember why he wants to, when he can see so much of what he wants in those knowing eyes. “But the day of knowing that for certain is not yet at hand. Not tonight. Tonight I’ll have the truth from you, whatever it takes.”

He turns away and walks over to a heavy wooden crank attached to the far wall. He turns it slowly, and the chains attached to Cloud’s wrist pull tight, then tighter still, until he’s lifted up onto his toes. He grunts at the strain this puts on his shoulders and glares at Sephiroth, who isn’t remotely fazed by the look.

“Bastard,” he says venomously through his teeth.

“Oh, you can take it for a few moments,” scoffs Sephiroth. “It’s only to prevent you from having enough leverage to do any real damage if you decide to do something foolish like attempt to kick me while I finish taking off the rest of your clothing. You could still try, of course, but please do consider that you can’t escape right now, and what happens to you until I decide to let you go is entirely up to me.”

Cloud thinks about it. It’s really awfully tempting, especially when Sephiroth kneels in front of him to pull off his boots. Even without his feet planted securely, he’s pretty sure he could easily muster enough force to kick out a couple of teeth, but whatever satisfaction it might bring him (and he’s not even sure it would) would probably not be worth the price he’d have to pay for it, and Sephiroth’s body would heal the damage anyway.

“Good boy,” purrs Sephiroth as his fingers slowly loosen Cloud’s belt and go to work on his pants. Cloud glances down at him and immediately wishes he hadn’t, because Sephiroth takes advantage of the moment to yank his pants down and take the head of Cloud’s cock in his mouth. It’s been hard as stone since the moment Sephiroth slammed him against the wall, and the silky warmth of the inside of Sephiroth’s mouth is almost too much. He struggles to hold back a groan of helpless pleasure, but isn’t very successful. Sephiroth’s tongue rubs over the sensitive knot of flesh just below the head of Cloud’s cock as he sucks lazily for a minute, humming a pleased sound when Cloud’s hips twitch. With his toes barely touching the floor, he can’t find enough purchase to thrust into the tantalizing heat. He’s a little more successful biting back the whimper of frustration he feels when Sephiroth pulls back, letting go of his erection with an obscene pop, and stands up.

Cloud closes his mouth on the protests and questions that arise at Sephiroth’s retreat across the room when the reason for it is resolved. Sephiroth lowers the chains, allowing his feet to rest firmly on the floor, releasing the uncomfortable strain on his shoulders.

“I’ll let you stay like this as long as you don’t give me a reason not to,” says Sephiroth, strolling back to stand in front of Cloud, his usual infuriating smirk playing at the corners of his mouth.

“You’re really enjoying this, aren’t you,” asks Cloud angrily. Sephiroth’s smirk vanishes. His eyes flash with a dangerous light.

“I am,” he says softly, and does that infuriating thing where he’s suddenly behind Cloud. Strong fingers fist in his hair hard enough to make his eyes water. Sephiroth’s voice in his ear makes him shiver despite his conscious effort not to let it happen. “But I’ve never tried to claim otherwise. What’s more to the point though, is that you are enjoying it too. And I’m going to prove it to you.”

Cloud opens his mouth to protest, but Sephiroth’s teeth skimming lightly down the side of his neck stall the words in his throat, and then the only sound he can muster is the low moan of approval when those teeth close at the join of his neck and shoulder, slowly bearing down until they grind into his flesh with bruising force. Feathers brush his skin, their soft caress in direct contrast to the brutality of the bite. He shivers, his skin pebbling all over in their wake. Sephiroth chuckles softly through his teeth, then lets go. Cloud grits his teeth in frustration while Sephiroth steps back around to face him again.

“What’s the matter?” he asks, mock sympathy dripping from his voice.

“Nothing,” says Cloud through his teeth, “except I’m tied up in a lunatic’s torture chamber.”

Sephiroth smiles serenely. His fingers trail idly up Cloud’s stomach, making the muscles there flinch under his touch. He drawls shrinking circles on his captive’s taut pectorals, getting closer and closer to Cloud’s nipples.

“All you have to do,” he says as his fingertips close around both tight little buds, “is admit to both of us how much you want this, and I’ll let you go.” As he finishes, his fingers pinch and twist cruelly. Cloud throws his head back at the sharp pain, biting back his cry, furious that his stupid dick twitches eagerly even as the rest of him refuses to acknowledge the heat.

“They’re...just dreams,” pants Cloud, shaking his head. “And I still think….they’re your fault. Somehow. Wh-what are you doing?”

Sephiroth has turned his back and opened a tall bureau, which contains a rather alarming array of implements clearly meant for inflicting varying degrees of pain. He ignores Cloud’s question and makes a show of considering the contents of the bureau, trailing his fingers over a long, coiled whip, a riding crop, floggers of differing thickness and weight. He selects one of the latter and turns back to face Cloud, swinging it is slow, lazy circles.

“You’ve been very rude,” muses Sephiroth as he stalks slowly back towards Cloud. “Forcing your way into my home at supper time, making that very accusation. Deny it as much as you wish, but you know the truth. I’m not responsible for your dreams, you foolish boy. I will confess I’m not a bit sorry to hear I haunt them.” He stops, standing right in front of Cloud, almost close enough to touch. He reaches up and drapes the soft, sueded leather of the multi-strand whip around Cloud’s neck, gripping it tightly at both ends. “The way you haunt mine.”

With this startling admission, he yanks on the ends of the whip and their mouths collide in another savage kiss. What’s wrong with me? Thinks Cloud bleakly as his belly clenches when their tongues tangle. Desire beats thick and hot in his blood. Why do you think there’s anything wrong with you, asks that irritating, logical voice. Because this is your enemy? Don’t you think that’s starting to sound a little tired? He saved your life a few weeks ago. Cloud has to admit it really has become a little ridiculous to keep trying to tell himself Sephiroth is his enemy. At least in this incarnation anyway. But the things this man does to him...it’s just too humiliating. What would his friends think? He’s supposed to protect them. How could anyone ever have any respect for him if they knew he actually just...got off on being tied up, on certain kinds of pain, and especially on letting this man control that pain...and Cloud’s pleasure?

“I can’t,” he whispers when Sephiroth breaks the kiss. Sephiroth’s eyes narrow. He lets go of the flogger’s falls with his right hand and tugs slowly on the handle so that the strands slide down Cloud’s skin as he pulls it away. He shifts again, so that he’s standing behind Cloud once again. Cloud can feel the slight displacement of air as Sephiroth sets the whip spinning. His body tenses, but the strands don’t strike him.

“You can,” says Sephiroth casually, letting the spinning falls dance close enough that Cloud can feel the breeze they make on his back. “You just won’t. The only person you hurt with this stubborn refusal to admit the truth is you.” For emphasis, Sephiroth brings the flogger close enough that the tips of the leather brush Cloud’s shoulders. They scuff the surface of his skin, but there’s no pain from the contact, only a kiss of warmth. He frowns, because it’s not at all what he’s come to expect. To expect? Or to want? He’s always acted confrontational and rude to Sephiroth in the past when he’s known very well why both of them were there, because nothing else he’d tried had been able to snap him out of his darker moods and help him focus again. He’d been just as confrontational, just as rude tonight. Had he really expected Sephiroth to react any differently? Was he subconsciously aiming for this very result? Well, not exactly this result, because what the hell is Sephiroth doing?

For all his thinly veiled threats, his comments about how rude Cloud’s been, Sephiroth doesn’t seem to be in any hurry to make him actually sorry for it. The whip in his hands is wielded with consummate skill and finesse, but it does no more than lightly brush and tease Cloud’s skin. It whispers and nips at his shoulders, his back, and his ass. His body is tense, nearly trembling with expecting the sharp bite that always accompanies Sephiroth’s “punishment,” but it doesn’t come. Finally, the waiting and wondering is more than he can handle.

“Damn it, will you just fucking get on with it? What are you waiting for??” he bursts out. Sephiroth, damn him, doesn’t miss a beat. The teasing kiss of the flogger doesn’t hesitate or slow.

“You know what I’m waiting for,” Sephiroth replies calmly, as if he hasn’t a care in the world and stands around doing things like this all the time. Cloud’s teeth grind together so hard his jaw aches.

“I can’t,” he says again, and even he can hear the anguish in his voice when he says it. His eyes close and his head slumps forward in frustrated despair. His eyes fly open and his head snaps up when the strands of leather lash across his back with a loud, meaty slap. The bite of it sings in his blood and a triumphant grin he’s glad Sephiroth can’t see spreads across his face. The satisfaction is short lived though, because the flogger immediately returns to its delicate, gentle tease.

“I’ve used a great many words to describe you in my own mind,” says Sephiroth almost conversationally, not slowing his torturous sensual assault. “Impetuous, foolish, rash. Terrifyingly courageous. Stubborn. Loyal, driven, fearless. Infuriating. Beautiful. Mine.” Some of the words Sephiroth tosses out are shocking to Cloud, shaking his understanding of the way things are between them at its foundation.

“I...I don’t…”

“I didn’t tell you to speak,” snaps Sephiroth, startling him into silence. “I’m not finished. I’ve thought all of those things about you, and more, but until tonight I never thought of you as stupid. And you are being stupid, Cloud. You can’t admit what you feel, what you want...why? Because it makes you weak? That’s what you think, isn’t it? Isn’t it?”

“Yes,” whispers Cloud, his face burning with embarrassment.

“Fool,” hisses Sephiroth angrily. “It isn’t weakness to have the courage to be honest with yourself about what you want, and to reach out and take it. You weakened yourself for years, denying the power you carried inside you. You’re better able to protect yourself and those you care about by using it. Denying that which you desire weakens you too. It makes you a coward, and I’ve never thought you to be a coward. You’re miserable right now. Frustrated and unhappy. Tell me...have you ever felt that way when you’ve left my bed...well, my company? Tell the truth.”

“No,” admits Cloud. The things Sephiroth is saying make too much sense. There has to be a catch though. Doesn’t there?

“No,” echoes Sephiroth, “you’ve felt steady. Balanced. As happy as someone as hell-bent on self recrimination as you are can feel, I dare to say. Gaia, but you infuriate me.”

Cloud hears the leather of the whip’s falls slap against the floor, then Sephiroth’s hand tangles in his hair again. He gasps when his head is roughly pulled back, his spine bowed back as he’s forced onto his toes. Sephiroth’s arm wraps around his chest and supports him a little, and his warm breath tickles Cloud’s ear.

“If you were to discover that one of your friends liked these things you claim not to want, what would you think of them? Would it make you think Leon was weak? Or Cid? Tifa?”

Cloud chokes back an involuntary laugh at the very idea of anybody looking Tifa in the eye and daring to call her weak, for any reason. Sephiroth’s fingers tighten in his hair.

“I’d like an answer, please,” he says pleasantly, but it’s obviously not a request.

“No,” Cloud admits, a little breathless because he can feel Sephiroth’s erection grinding against his ass through the taller man’s leather pants.

“Why? Think for a moment before you answer, but tell me why.”

Cloud doesn’t really have to think about it, because Sephiroth’s questions have flipped some kind of switch in his brain and he has to agree with the earlier assessment that he’s being stupid. He laughs breathlessly. Goddess, Sephiroth is right, which is kind of a kick in the teeth, but stranger things have certainly happened lately.

“Be...because it’s nobody’s business what..gets you off. Or makes you happy. Getting what you...ngh….what you want...what you need...whatever it is...doesn’t make anybody weak. Denying it can though….damn it, will you let go of me? I want to...agh!” His words are cut off when Sephiroth lets go of him abruptly, and spins him so that they face each other. It takes him a few seconds to look up into his lover’s eyes, because he can already well imagine the smug satisfaction he’s going to see there. Damn it. And it is there, a little bit, but to his surprise, Sephiroth mostly just looks...pleased.

“Tell me what you want,” he whispers, green eyes blazing with heat.

“This. I want this. P-punish me for being rude and interrupting your fucking supper. Make me scream, you bastard. I want you to. Fuck me til I can’t stand up anymore. Just...hurry, okay? I’ve been going crazy for days and I...wait, what are you…” He stammers to a halt when Sephiroth reaches up and unfastens his wrists from the chains holding his arms above his head. Sephiroth’s smile is positively evil.

“I said I’d let you go once you admitted this was what you wanted,” he replies coolly.

“But...but I…,” Cloud protests, confused and a little hurt. Sephiroth’s slow, deep laughter drips with sin. He wrenches Cloud’s hands behind his back and secures them with a soft, ominous click of metal.

“Don’t worry, little toy, I’m not going to let you leave,” he purrs wickedly. One hand strays to the waistband of his pants and lazily thumbs open the top button. “You’re not going anywhere until I’ve given you everything you asked for...and more. Now get on your knees, you rude, insolent little boy. And suck.”

Chapter Text

He closes his eyes as the broad, blunt head of Sephiroth’s cock slides past his lips and into his mouth. Sephiroth’s fingers card softly through his hair and close gently into a fist. Cloud makes a muffled, small sound of need as the taste of the small bead of moisture that wells from Sephiroth’s erection spreads over his tongue, allowing Sephiroth to completely fill his senses. The taste, the scent of this man...the leather of his pants, the undefinable scent of his skin that Cloud has never been able to define but which he’s known his whole life it often seems...the feel of the strong hand in his hair and the way his jaw aches from the strain of opening wide enough to suck the thickness of Sephiroth’s cock into his mouth...he lets it all wrap around him and pull him in. He can’t support himself with his hands cuffed behind his back and has to trust Sephiroth to keep him from falling back on his ass. Strangely, it isn’t hard to do this time.

Sephiroth’s cock tugs free of his lips with a filthy pop as he pulls his head back. Opening his eyes, Cloud looks up into the taller man’s face as he sticks out his tongue and presses the tip of it into the slit at the head of Sephiroth’s cock. Those otherworldly slit pupils dilate wide, and Sephiroth growls softly when Cloud bends his head to lick a slow stripe up the underside of his cock, then sucks it back into his mouth with an obscene, wet sound. Cloud moans softly and rubs the flat of his tongue over the small knot under the head as he sucks hard. Sephiroth’s blazing green eyes seem to scorch him as he watches Cloud avidly. The fist in his hair tightens and Cloud sucks in his breath sharply through his nose when Sephiroth’s hips roll. The head of his cock bumps the back of Cloud’s throat and his eyes water as Sephiroth slowly fucks his mouth. He struggles to relax, breathing through his nose when Sephiroth pulls back and struggling for air when he thrusts forward again. The fear he usually feels, that Sephiroth won’t notice or care if he’s suffocating, doesn’t manifest this time. He chooses to try trusting this time, and then it’s easy. Tears of effort still roll down his face, but they’re merely from the strain of it when the back of his throat opens to accept it, not from pain or anger. His own cock aches between his thighs, a mindless need he can’t control and doesn’t try to fight.

“Goddess, you are beautiful,” whispers Sephiroth, his voice low and rough with desire. Cloud whines softly through his nose and sucks harder. “Ah….now,” gasps Sephiroth. His cock jerks in Cloud’s mouth, pulsing as he comes, groaning softly through his teeth. Fuck, but he’s hot when he comes, Cloud realizes abruptly as he swallows as fast as he can. He’s struck by the fact that he’s never actually looked at Sephiroth’s face in the moments of his completion, having always been either face down, or determinedly keeping his eyes closed.

Sephiroth pulls back, his fingers loosening and gently rubbing away the sting in Cloud’s scalp. Cloud coughs a little, not from disgust but because he can’t help it. His throat is a little sore. But if he’s doing this, admitting it to himself, it’s part of what does it for him. Being used this way, his own sense of being helpless heightened by having his mouth used roughly. And he can take it. The soreness is fleeting, and the enhancements his body has undergone will make it and the ache in his jaw nothing but memories by morning. He looks up at Sephiroth and waits. The man stands there looking down at him for so long that Cloud starts to wonder if something’s wrong, but when those perfectly sculpted lips curve slowly into a filthy smile, his stomach flutters with anticipation.

“Up,” says Sephiroth, turning his back on Cloud and making no move to help him. He struggles a little awkwardly to his feet and waits. But not for long. He’s shoved forcefully over the leather-padded sawhorse. Sephiroth disconnects his wrists from behind his back and secures each of them to one of the object’s two front legs. He yanks against them, the steel rings clattering loudly.

“It’s far too late for you to escape now, little toy,” says Sephiroth, amusement evident in his voice.

“Just making sure this thing’s up to the task,” retorts Cloud. No need to let Sephiroth get too cocky about things, after all.

“Go ahead and struggle all you like. It was built sturdily enough that I can’t break it.”

Cloud flushes a little. He knows Sephiroth is physically a lot stronger than he is. It’s a pointed reminder, and he has to wonder again, a little dizzily, whether it’s really true that Sephiroth can’t read his thoughts. He can’t escape, can’t break free. Not that he wants to now, but Sephiroth is imposing his own dreamt-of desires on him a little too accurately. The hand that strokes up his back is gentle, and the muscles he’s clenched in unconscious tension relax a little.

“Nothing will happen tonight you don’t want,” says Sephiroth softly. Cloud’s eyes widen in surprise. Sure the man can’t be suggesting he’s going to make Cloud tell him everything he wants him to do? That’s...no. “All you have to do is say her name, and I will stop. I know it’s one word you’d never use voluntarily. In that way I’ll know you’ve had enough.”

Jenova. Cloud wonders if he’ll be able to bring himself to say it even if he does really want Sephiroth to stop, but he thinks he gets it. He’s startled by the gesture, a little, and begins to realize that Sephiroth had really meant it when he’d told Cloud how much he’s always wanted this. It’s not a word Cloud will use easily. He’ll have to really want Sephiroth to stop. It’s not an easy out, but it’s an out. He also realizes it means he can say anything else he wants, curse or beg for mercy, and that Sephiroth will ignore him. His erection, pinned between his body and the leather padding of the sawhorse, twitches a little at the thought of that. At his dream memories of pleading for mercy.

“Okay,” he says with a sharp nod. Sephiroth crouches in front of the bench he’s cuffed to and looks into his eyes.

“It takes more courage than most men have, to put themselves in another’s hands. I have done little to earn your trust in the past.,” he says softly.

“The man I first met, lifetimes ago,” says Cloud, a little awkwardly, “was someone I trusted with my life. I haven’t...haven’t seen that man in a long time. But I’m starting to believe...I don’t know what happened to any of us, how we got here but...I think that’s who I’m looking at now.”

“There will always be darkness in me,” replies Sephiroth. “I don’t fight against it as you do. And I’ll never turn from it, the way you can. It’s the part of me that is in you. But...part of you is in me as well. I am...perhaps...closer to the man I once was than I have been.”

Close enough, thinks Cloud. He’s thinking about something else, too, something he used to call this man, those lifetimes ago, when Sephiroth had been his General and he’d been ready to die for him in an instant.

“Okay,” he says softly. “Yeah, okay, I can live with that. Still want this though, and it’s kinda starting to feel like you’re stalling a little bit. Sir.” He watches Sephiroth through his eyelashes when he says it, and the voice in his head, the one he’s finally, gradually meeting somewhere in the middle, like a pair of badly focused field goggles, says, “Gotchya!”

Sephiroth’s pupils dilate and the glowing Mako green of his eyes blazes at Cloud like heated plasma. His lips part and Cloud can barely hear the sound of his breath catching in his throat, but it’s there all right.

“You like that?” he breathes, firing Sephiroth a lopsided grin. “Me calling you Sir? Yeah, you like it. What are you waiting for, Sir? Been dreaming about this for so long. Feels like forever sometimes. Maybe it has been. C’mon. I’ve been pretty bad, right?” It’s a heady feeling, realizing that this bone-deep need isn’t even remotely one-sided and that it’s never been about humiliating Cloud at all, but that Sephiroth wants this, and him, just as much. Maybe more.

“You insubordinate little brat,” purrs Sephiroth with a brilliant smile that shows way too many teeth. He stands up, turning away and giving Cloud time to appreciate the view of him from the back while he goes back to the big wooden bureau. He’s usually wearing his pauldrons and his coat. Sephiroth’s body  really should be listed somewhere as an illegal substance. Or at least a really dangerous one. His shoulders are broad and chiseled with muscle that continues down his back to a slender waist and a spectacular ass, which is shown off to unfair advantage in his snug leather breeches. Cloud watches the way the muscles shift and slide under his pale, alabaster skin, and stares at the softly moving feathers of his wing. His fingers itch to touch them, to feel that softness under his hands and hear Sephiroth’s voice catch at how good it feels to be touched there.

“You’re beautiful too.” His cheeks heat and his ears burn a little when he realizes he’s said it out loud. Sephiroth goes completely still for a moment. Cloud thinks he even stops breathing. He glances back over his shoulder and the look in his eyes promises Cloud every filthy, perverse thing he’s ever wanted along with a bunch more he’s probably never dreamed of. His body quivers with the need to just rut against the soft leather underneath him, because he’s pretty sure he could come in under a minute flat from that look alone, but he doesn’t, and waits while Sephiroth makes his selection….well, selections, because Cloud can’t pick out any one thing very well from the handful of toys Sephiroth draws out and then sets down on a table a few feet away from where he’s got Cloud bent over the bench, naked and cuffed and not afraid.

“What are you going to do?” asks Cloud breathlessly.

“Everything,” hisses Sephiroth, grabbing a fistful of his hair again and yanking his head back so he can lean down to kiss Cloud. Despite the eye-watering pain of the hand in his hair, Sephiroth’s kiss is so passionate it takes Cloud’s breath away. His lips are soft and warm. The tip of his tongue flicks teasingly at Cloud’s mouth until he opens is on a soft moan, then it slides softly inside to touch and taste his own. Sephiroth uses his teeth...he knows it makes Cloud weak in the knees...but not to cause pain this time. He sucks Cloud’s lower lip into his mouth gently, and nibbles at its fullness. At last he deepens the kiss, their tongues tangling, his growl trickling down Cloud’s throat. It leaves him trembling with desire when Sephiroth stands up and steps back, staring down at him with blazing green fire in his eyes. He flexes the riding crop in his hands and his smile is rife with filthy promise.

“So, for interrupting my supper,” he says lazily as he walks slowly to the back of the bench. The crop’s keeper slides slowly over Cloud’s skin; up the back of his thigh and over the rounded curve of his ass, then back down again to tease over his balls and down the twitching shaft of his cock. Cloud gasps and shudders and has a split second to hope Sephiroth doesn’t actually intend to hit him there before Sephiroth raises his arm and the crop descends.

It’s different this time, in so many ways. Cloud’s not fighting it for one. There’s no anger in either of them for another. It isn’t to meet his need to beat back the hate and darkness in him, most importantly, but a different need. One he’s been denying for years, one which has tormented his dreams at night for as long as he can remember, wrapped up in his desire for this man. His ears burn with embarrassment as he suddenly recalls being much younger than he is now, alone in his quarters at night with thoughts of his breathtakingly handsome General, his idol, tormenting his mind. Oh Goddess, he’d had such a crush on Sephiroth then! Now he remembers touching himself as he fantasized about his hero noticing him, calling Cloud to come to his rooms at night, alone...Had he really been that naive boy once? He’d fantasized about this even then though, he realizes now that the memory comes back to him. Way before they’d been linked together as they are now. He can remember fantasizing about violating some regulation or other, and being sent to the General to be reprimanded. Only the General hadn’t assigned him the normal sorts of military punishment one would expect. No KP duty, no confinement to quarters or loss of leave, no gruelling PT. The General had pulled a crop just like this one out of his desk and ordered young Cloud to bend over his desk....

It’s different in another way too. Sephiroth isn’t trying to force any badly-needed catharsis on Cloud as he fights it even as he craves it. When he brings the crop down, Cloud braces himself for the searing pain he’s come to expect, but it doesn’t come. It stings, but it’s more than bearable. Sephiroth doesn’t lay into him, he plays with him. The strokes build slowly in intensity, stoking the fires he’s already lit in Cloud’s body, tending them skillfully and attentively. It rides the edge between not nearly enough and just perfect. It’s not at all what he’d expected. It’s better.

Cloud doesn’t withhold the thing he knows Sephiroth wants either. He’s heard the same demand from this man every time they’ve come together. “ Give me your voice.” So he doesn’t make Sephiroth ask for it for once. His gasps and soft moans fill the cool stone basement. He cries out eagerly when Sephiroth finally puts enough force behind a stroke for it to really bite.

“You make it hard for me to want to keep punishing you when you sing for me so beautifully,” says Sephiroth, his voice a low, bass growl of unconcealed lust.

“More,” pants Cloud, yanking against his restraints.

“As you wish,” purrs Sephiroth. “Then, for making baseless accusations..”

The flogger returns, but not to tease him this time. It paints his skin to a deep, blushing pink with it’s kiss. His back and shoulders are hot by the time Sephiroth sets it aside, but something strange is happening to him. He can perceive that Sephiroth is striking him with considerably more force now, but his mind barely registers any pain. It’s not terribly unlike the feeling he gets when he’s been fighting hard for long enough. A sort of euphoria sets in. He’s almost flying, exulting in every impact of leather on flesh, his body straining towards the whip instead of away.

“ More, ” he pleads hoarsely, his throat raw with the desire that continues to burn low and hot in his blood and with the helpless sounds Sephiroth has drawn from his lips.

“Exquisite,” whispers Sephiroth. “I knew you would be. I can refuse you nothing. More then.”

Cloud open eyes that don’t seem to want to focus properly when he hears the soft hiss of leather dragging over the stone floor. He should probably be alarmed at the sight of the long whip as Sephiroth pulls is slowly through his fingers, one hand curling around its braided handle, but he’s not. He closes his eyes again, lays his cheek against the leather padding of the bench, and waits. He’s aware that the thing is fully capable of flaying open his skin in the hands of someone who knows how to wield it, and is sure Sephiroth is just such a person, but no fear follows on the heels of this awareness.

He is at the same time hyperaware of everything happening and feeling like he’s floating somewhere above all of it. The sound of the whip scraping softly across the floor, Sephiroth’s heavy, ragged breathing in counterpoint to his own, the way his own sweat cools on his heated skin, the scent and feel of the leather under his chest and stomach, the constant ache in his cock and balls...he’s aware of all of it, but at the same time none of it matters. Sephiroth matters, and that he keeps doing what he’s doing, and...and...Cloud chokes back the sob that wants to escape his chest when he realizes that it matters too...and to a startling degree...that Sephiroth be pleased with him.

The whip’s crack in the quiet of the room is shockingly loud. He blinks through the haze in his head when no sensation follows, then realizes that Sephiroth has only cracked it in the air. He sucks in a deep, shuddering breath and braces himself, but when the whip kisses his skin, be barely feels it.

“I’d sooner lose a limb than destroy what’s happening here tonight,” says Sephiroth quietly. There’s something so reassuring in his voice that Cloud relaxes almost immediately. “You’ve shown me more trust this night than I deserve. Give me a little more, beautiful boy. Sometimes even the most deadly things can make you feel good...when someone knows how to handle them. And I do.”

Cloud huffs out a breathless laugh and wonders if Sephiroth had meant to be talking about himself, or if Cloud had just taken it that way. Sephiroth’s answering chuckle makes it perfectly clear that he’s still just as much a master of double entendre as ever, but Cloud feels too good to care. It’s true anyway.

The whip dances over his skin, lightly at first, then slowly builds in intensity, until his flesh seems to ignite under every stroke. But it never seems to become too much for him to take. He doesn’t know when the tears well up in his eyes and begin to spill down his cheeks. It hurts...oh, it does, but it’s perfect. It’s exactly what he wants at the end of the dance Sephiroth has guided his body through. There is as much need in the helpless cries he doesn’t try to hold back as there is pain. The endorphins singing through his blood tangle it up in lust and pleasure. All of it blends together into a need so strong he’s pretty sure he’s going to lose his mind if Sephiroth doesn’t touch him soon.

“Please,” he cries, and doesn’t feel ashamed to beg for once, “S-seph please ...I need...I need…” Frustration is on the verge of turning his tears into something bitter because he can’t seem to find the right words, but then Sephiroth is beside him, kneeling down to unclasp his restraints. Cloud practically falls off the bench into his arms when Sephiroth puts them around him. He lifts his head and tangles his fingers clumsily into silver hair as soft as silk, tugging Sephiroth down to kiss him, his eyes falling closed. The room spins and tilts sideways.

He opens his eyes in shock when his back settles against something soft and Sephiroth’s body weight settles on top of him, still reeling a little from the strange sensation, and sees that they’re in Sephiroth’s bedroom. Or more precisely, in his bed.

“How…” he gasps. Sephiroth’s grin is triumphant, which makes Cloud realize that he’s teleported both of them here.

“I’ve been practicing,” he says smugly.

“With what, sides of beef?” asks Cloud dazedly, because he’s always thought the man could only teleport himself.

“Perhaps,” replies Sephiroth, still smiling.

“Showoff,” mutters Cloud, yanking his head down for another kiss. It actually takes him a minute to realize that Sephiroth hasn’t restrained his hands. He chalks it up to the endorphins still pumping in his bloodstream, even though his powers of recovery are starting to kick in. It’s almost something worth mourning a little bit….later, anyway...that he’s not very likely to ever get to enjoy the warm, floaty feeling Sephiroth has given him, thanks to his Mako enhanced body. One arm tightens around Sephiroth’s neck. The other skims down his shoulder and finds the elegant arch of Sephiroth’s wing.

The feathers are just as soft under his fingers as he’s imagined they’d be. His own wing is pinned under him, and isn’t as long or as adept as Sephiroth’s anyway. That’s okay though, because he’s been thinking about doing this for a long time. Slowly, gently, he brushes his fingertips through the feathers, up the humerus bone to the first joint. Sephiroth’s breath hitches in his chest. He stops kissing Cloud and presses their foreheads together, panting harshly. A shudder passes through his body. Cloud’s fingers still as he feels an answering shudder in his own flesh.

“Oh Goddess,” he breathes. He moves his hand again, to be sure he hadn’t imagined it. No, it’s definitely there, a faint echo of the touch in his own wing. His cock, pressed snugly against Sephiroth’s stomach, pulses with the pleasure of the sensation. Sephiroth laughs breathlessly.

“N-now you see why I don’t tease you that way more mercilessly,” he says a little shakily. He’s right, too. It’s almost too much. And how embarrassing would it be to just...come untouched like this? A double-edged sword if there ever was one, and it makes him re-think his plan to reach out and run his fingers through Sephiroth’s feathers as they pass each other on the street someday. Sure, he can do that. If he wants to be sporting and instant and painful boner the minute he does it. Or even come in his pants if he can’t let go fast enough, and he can damn well see Sephiroth finding a way to make sure he can’t. His estimation of Sephiroth’s control ratchets up several notches. And he’d already known it was legendary.

“Ngh….wha...whatever. Could you just….be fucking me now? Or...something?”

Sephiroth’s soft, low laugh sounds a little strained, which doesn’t actually do a damned thing to help Cloud’s need for him, because even when he’d still been convincing himself (or trying to) that he’d hated the man, it had always enhanced Cloud’s arousal when Sephiroth hadn’t been able to hide his own. He’s not making any effort to do so now at all . He reaches for the glass bottle of oil on the bedside table, rolling his hips to press the thick ridge of his erection against Cloud. His other hand reaches down to yank at his fly. Cloud helps him, gritting his teeth against the urge to curse at the man to hurry, because despite his request, he’s well aware that if Sephiroth were to take his “now” demand literally, he’d probably regret it. He distracts himself from his urgency by grinding his ass against the bedcover, because now that most of his high has worn off, it’s really starting to smart. Of course, because he’s apparently a raging freak, it doesn’t help much. Or at all. He groans helplessly and shoves at the waistband of Sephiroth’s pants when they’re finally unfastened. Sephiroth grins wickedly and kneels up to push them the rest of the way down. He pushes Cloud’s legs apart and reaches between them, his fingers slippery with lubricant.

Cloud utters a harsh cry when two cool fingers spear unerringly into his asshole, his fingers grasping Sephiroth’s arms and digging in hard. Sephiroth’s mouth quirks and one eyebrow lifts.

“Too much ‘now’ for you?” he asks, not sounding sorry at all. Cloud opens his eyes, which he’d slammed shut at the sensation.

“What? I’m tr...ah...trying not to come. F-fuck!”

Sephiroth smirks and crooks his fingers. Cloud cries out and arches against him, his hips rolling helplessly as pleasure sparks through his body like wildfire. Sephiroth rubs slowly back and forth over that one perfect spot over and over while Cloud pants heavily and curses at him through his teeth.

“You’re so sensitive here. I can’t help but want to tease you. To watch the way your body trembles for for me, and see the need in your eyes,” he murmurs.

“St-stop,” gasps Cloud. “Stop it, I’m gonna come. You bastard...ah! Hah...damn it.”

“Why should I stop? Tell me.” There’s a strange tone in his voice. Sephiroth sounds almost unsure of himself. They’re on entirely new ground tonight, and Cloud wonders suddenly if Sephiroth’s afraid that Cloud is going to regret this later, or change his mind. Maybe he is afraid of that, because all Cloud has ever done when they’re finished is run away as fast as he can, at least when he wasn’t too injured to do so.

“Because I want to come with you inside me,” he says softly, reaching down to close his fingers around Sephiroth’s arm, squeezing hard. “I want this. Want you. I’m not changing my mind.”

“Cloud…”

“General,” whispers Cloud, “Sir. Please.”

He doesn’t think he’s ever seen Sephiroth smile this way before. He’d thought he was familiar with all of the man’s facial expressions, but this is something new. If anyone had asked him before if he’s ever seen Sephiroth happy, he’d have probably said yes...because of the wicked grin of triumph he’s seen on that breathtaking face when he’d finally surrendered, but now he realizes he’d have been wrong. There had always been a certain amount of bitterness in every smile Sephiroth has given him before. To see it now, unguarded and open with real, honest pleasure, he thinks there might be an awful lot he’d do to get to see it again.

Sephiroth stops torturing him and slowly scissors his fingers apart. Cloud throws his head back and moans, the burn of the stretch doing nothing to cool his desire. The muscles in his thighs quiver and his cock twitches, precome leaking steadily from the slit at its head and slicking his belly with evidence of his need.

“Harder,” gasps Cloud. “ Hurry. ”

Sephiroth hums with pleasure and fucks him harder with his fingers, knuckles slamming into Cloud’s ass hard enough to hurt a little. Cloud digs his heels into the bed, toes curling with pleasure, and shoves his hips into every rough thrust. He whimpers when Sephiroth removes his hand, then howls when he adds a third finger, slick with more lube, and jams them back into his clutching hole. Twisting roughly and leaning over Cloud to get more leverage, his lover forces his body open ruthlessly, ramming into him over and over until Cloud accepts his fingers easily.

“Now,” he begs, reaching for Sephiroth and gripping his shoulders hard, fingers digging into hard muscle. “I’m ready. Fuck me. Sir...please. I’m... now. ”

Sephiroth growls and drags his fingers out of Cloud’s ass, giving one last beckoning curl over his sweet spot and wringing a wail of need from Cloud’s lips as he does it. His slit pupils are blown wide, a slim ring of blazing green showing around them. He hooks one of Cloud’s knees over his arm, using the other hand to guide the head of his quickly lubricated cock to the smaller man’s entrance. He looks searchingly into Cloud’s eyes for a moment. Apparently seeing what he’s looking for, he snarls, a feral, inhuman sound, and shoves.

Cloud’s howl when Sephiroth’s cock sinks inside him, balls deep, feels torn from his guts, raw and desperate. It hurts, because Sephiroth’s cock is considerably thicker than three of his fingers, but he revels in the ache of it, and the pleasure outweighs the burn by leaps and bounds. Sephiroth leans down and swallows Cloud’s cry with a savage kiss, his hips rolling back to plunge again and again. Cloud’s spine arches in a quivering bow of desire, wrapping his other leg around Sephiroth’s waist to bring him closer.

He opens his eyes and stares in fascination at Sephiroth’s face, realizing suddenly that this is the first time they’ve done this face to face. Seeing the desire written so clearly on his lover’s face is almost too much for him. His breath hitches in his chest when Sephiroth moans softly and bites his lip hard, a frown of concentration creasing his elegant brows. His hand trembles a little when he lifts it to trace the beautiful planes of the face he knows so well, the one he’s seen in his dreams for so long he can’t remember a time it didn’t haunt him. Sephiroth turns his head and takes Cloud’s thumb in his teeth, worrying it gently and stroking the pad with his tongue. He lets go and looks into Cloud’s eyes, his breathing harsh and labored in his lungs.

“You are so beautiful,” he whispers. “Even if...if you never give me this again...I’ll never forget what you’ve...ngh...given me tonight. Ah...hah...Cloud…”

“Ih-idiot,” gasps Cloud. “I won’t stop fighting you. Hnn...it’s...too much fuh-fun. Pr...probably won’t stop n-needing you to...to find me again...when I get lost. Either. But you’re just stupid if you think I’ll...ngh...give this up.”

“Not going to change your mind? Be ashamed of it? Of me?”

“I can...oh Goddess don’t stop...be kind of st... ah ...stupid. I’ll try not to. Don’t let me.” Cloud chokes on a stuttering cry when Sephiroth grins crookedly and angles his hips just so.

“I won’t,” he whispers. His hand tightens around Cloud’s leg and he curses softly.

Cloud feels the pleasure burn hotter in his belly, his balls tightening almost painfully. He closes his eyes tightly, frantic gasps and cries of need spilling from his lips.

“Oh,” he breathes, “oh, I’m…”

“Open your eyes,” snarls Sephiroth. Cloud obeys him instinctively. “Don’t look away. I want to watch you. Let go. Come for me. Fee-Feels so good. You’re perfect. Ah. Cloud...come for me. Now. Oh... now !” He punctuates his demands with deep, driving jabs of his hips, grinding his cock hard over Cloud’s sweet spot.

Cloud stares into Sephiroth’s eyes, sees them blur and go blind with his pleasure, as his own climax swamps his body with waves of hot ecstasy, his cock pumping out ropes of his seed over his stomach and up to his chest. He feels the warm rush of Sephiroth’s seed filling him, his own eyes blurring with tears at the sheer intensity of his pleasure. Sephiroth lowers his forehead against Cloud’s, panting harshly, letting his body weight rest against the smaller man beneath him. Cloud sighs, his eyes drifting closed, body going lax as a soft languor fills his limbs, a gentle lassitude that has a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He’s not sure he can remember ever feeling so good. There’s no shame, no embarrassment about what they’ve shared, or what he’s let Sephiroth do to him. He lifts his arms with no small amount of effort, because they feel awfully heavy, and wraps them around Sephiroth’s shoulders.

Some indefinite amount of time later, they tighten in protest when Sephiroth shifts and tries to lift himself.

“Nnh,” he says negatively.

“I must be getting heavy,” says Sephiroth softly. He is, a little, but Cloud doesn’t mind. Still, he lets go, then whines a little through his nose when Sephiroth rolls off him, his softening cock slipping from Cloud’s body and making him aware that he’s more than a little sore.

“Ow,” he complains, which makes Sephiroth chuckle. His strong fingers card through Cloud’s hair, and he leans down for a kiss, nipping teasingly at the tiny pout of Cloud’s bottom lip.

“Mm. Don’t pout, little boy, or I’ll have to punish you again.”

Cloud’s spent dick makes a creditable attempt to twitch with interest at the threat, but he’s too tired and feels too good to really mean it. He grins and looks up at Sephiroth, sticking his lip out further because he’s almost positive his lover doesn’t mean the threat.

“Yeah?” he asks lazily, stretching like a cat and pulling Sephiroth down to kiss him again.

“Yes,” says Sephiroth with mock severity. “Tomorrow, almost certainly.”

“Promises, promises,” Cloud retorts, laughing a little. Sephiroth’s answering smile is amused and fond and only a little exasperated.

“So disrespectful,” he sighs.

“Sephiroth…” Cloud grows serious, and his cheeks flush as he looks up through his eyelashes. “I...thanks. I mean...that was...I didn’t know, didn’t realize…”

“Shh,” says Sephiroth softly, laying a finger on Cloud’s lips. “You don’t need to thank me. I didn’t do this...any of it...as a favor. I’ve wanted this...wanted you to see how things could be...for a very long time. I hope to never make you sorry. And...I’d like you to stay. Tonight, I mean.”

“Okay,” says Cloud, letting go of his embarrassment and grinning crookedly, opening his mouth to suck Sephiroth’s finger inside and biting it just a little. “As long as you keep that promise.”

He falls asleep with the memory of the sound of Sephiroth’s surprised, honest, open laughter in his ears.