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Cloud comes to the church often.
Technically, he doesn’t need to. Geostigma has been cured, everyone has access to the healing waters, and there are no other threats on the horizon.
It’s been a few months since Cloud pushed Sephiroth back into the lifestream again, and life has mostly normalized again. As much as it can, for people like them. Cloud doesn’t hide himself in the church anymore, and has returned to the apartments above Seventh Heaven.
Still, something pulls him back to this place.
Cloud never tells anyone he comes here, because he doesn’t want to see their knowing looks, the fear that he’ll relapse and isolate himself again.
He’s not going to. He’s happy now. He knows he’s not alone. Aerith doesn’t hate him and she forgave him.
But it’s not Aerith why Cloud comes here. It’s not Zack either, as Cloud looks at the Buster Sword leaning against the wall on the other side of the pond.
Cloud comes here because he doesn’t have any other place to be truly alone with his thoughts without someone asking if he’s okay.
He’s sick and tired of people asking that. He knows they’re worried, but even that grates on him.
He is fine. He knows he is. His body isn’t wracked with the pain geostigma caused, nor does he get the familiar headaches either. Actually, he feels healthier than ever. Physically.
Cloud should be happy now. They have successfully nullified every threat they’ve faced. They can now focus on healing and rebuilding.
Yet… yet. Cloud peers at the water’s surface and looks at his reflection. His spiky blond hair. His pale complexion. The blue eyes. They’re bluer now, because he’s healthier. For some reason, though, he hates seeing it. The absence of the green glow makes him feel disgustingly wrong.
He frowns at the water and suddenly the image warps, replacing his face with flowing, silver hair, green eyes with slitted pupils, and he jerks back.
Cloud lands on his back on the floor, heart hammering in his chest. Sephiroth is gone. Why does he still keep haunting him like this? Cloud crouches up on his knees and crawls back to the water.
It’s his face and his blue eyes. He still can’t stand to look at them, though, and he can’t understand why.
“I’m fine,” he mutters to himself. “Absolutely fine.”
The ripples in the water make it look like his own face is smirking back at him.
***
Cloud returns to Edge an hour later, after he’s certain he can school his expression and put on the mask he’s grown accustomed to wear.
Things had been better, at first. Right after he’d woken up, floating in the water with children around him. They all had started rebuilding and fixing things, with Cloud returning to his deliveries. Business is booming these days, and he spends most of his days driving all around the Planet with Fenrir.
But he always returns home to Tifa and Denzel—and Marlene, if she’s not with Barret.
Slowly, that sense of peace has started to wane, but Cloud learned quickly to hide it behind his small smile and awkwardness, something that’s always been a part of him. Now it’s his armor, one even Tifa can’t breach.
Their life is easy and filled with laughter, now that the shadow of geostigma is gone. Denzel is a lot happier and he has more energy, so he and Marlene play together a lot.
Cloud loves to see it, the kids blooming like that and finding their happiness.
Tifa is doing well too—her shoulders aren’t that tense anymore, and she isn’t looking at Cloud as if fearing he might jump at her.
Their relationship still hasn’t recovered, and Cloud feels like it never will. These days they feel like oil and water—good as friends, but dreadful with anything else. Cloud helps her around the bar when he can, but mostly he’s busy with work.
Cloud goes on with his days, settled into his rhythm, but the longer time passes, the worse he starts to feel.
It creeps up on him when he spends time with Tifa and the kids, it makes itself known when he’s out in the wilds with Vincent, hunting fiends, or with Cid as they tweak Fenrir together.
Cloud feels weirdly uncomfortable and restless when he helps Barret go over his plans to search for more oil and coal from Corel to replace mako as a power source.
All the while, Cloud hides it so well that no one can tell. No one can tell what he’s thinking. And as he looks at the map to mark one of the spots for closer inspection, he suddenly realizes something.
None of his friends understand him.
He can’t relate to any of them. Cloud doesn’t know anyone else affected by mako and being pumped full of cells from Jenova and Sephiroth. He hasn’t felt the pull of the Reunion in a while, but he knows it’s still there—the cells are a part of him now, and there’s nothing he can do about it.
Of course, Cloud knows he could talk about it with anyone, and they would support him the best they could. Just like they had when Cloud had finally pieced his memories back together and told them the truth about his past.
But now, somehow, it feels worse than ever.
***
Cloud tries to forget it and make himself a part of the community. He does everything Tifa asks him to, joins every possible thing he can think of.
He always feels like an outsider.
It’s not as bad when he’s doing deliveries, so he works more than ever, so much so that Tifa notices it, but she doesn’t say anything. He always comes back home, after all. But the tension is there now, and Cloud knows she won’t stay quiet forever.
Sure enough, three months after Cloud’s visit to the church, Tifa corners him in the kitchen in the morning, just as he’s getting ready to leave for work—going as far as the western continent, this time. He’s on a schedule, since his ferry leaves from Junon in the afternoon, and it takes a few hours to drive there.
“What’s going on, Cloud?” Tifa asks, arms crossed and head tilted to the side. Her luscious, dark hair falls over her shoulder. “You’re doing it again.”
Cloud rubs at his temples. “Doing what?”
“Avoiding home,” Tifa says. “You’re isolating yourself again.”
“It’s nothing,” Cloud says stiffly, not looking Tifa in the eyes. “I just—don’t feel comfortable with people.”
“We’re not just people,” Tifa snaps, now hurt seeping into her voice. “Didn’t we go through this already?”
Cloud is tired. Tired of getting questioned like this, tired of not being allowed to feel like he feels. “I’m saying this only once,” he says, his voice shaking only a bit—enough, though, for Tifa to realize he’s truly angry. “Leave me alone. If I prefer being by myself, then for the love of Ifrit, let me do that.”
He grabs his bag and his goggles, and storms out of the door to his bike.
Tifa doesn’t follow him. Small mercy, at least. Cloud scoffs to himself as he secures his bag into the compartment in his bike, puts on the goggles and Fenrir roars to life.
***
The journey to the western continent goes on without a hitch, and Cloud returns home.
Tifa has seemed to decide that the conversation never took place, and she greets Cloud cheerfully.
Cloud grunts a reply and goes to take a shower.
As hot water cascades over him, he thinks about it again. What is wrong with him, really? Why can’t he feel happy? Or at peace? He likes his job and his home. He has a routine. What else does he still need?
At first, he thought it was just his late hormones working and signaling that he needed to get laid. He tried that at Gold Saucer—with a man and a woman—but it did little to make him feel better.
So physical intimacy isn’t what he needs.
Cloud steps out of the shower and as he stops in front of the mirror to dry himself, he freezes.
Sephiroth is looking back at him from the mirror, eyes narrow, lips quirked into an amused smile.
“I will never be a memory, Cloud,” Sephiroth whispers, and suddenly his image warps back to Cloud—and now his eyes are tinted with green.
The first reaction is a crushing relief. Cloud steps closer to look, and sure enough, the glow of mako around his pupils is back. He hadn’t even realized just how less of himself he’d felt without it. Now, looking at himself feels better. More familiar.
He dries himself and pulls on a clean shirt and a pair of pants, then walks back to his room.
***
Cloud knows he’s dreaming.
He has to be, because he’s standing at Nibelheim’s town square, and he knows he went to bed in Midgar.
The village looks like always, with the water tower in the middle.
A strong gust of wind blasts through the square and suddenly there’s fire.
There’s Sephiroth, standing before the flames.
“I’m waiting, Cloud,” he whispers. “Come to me, my puppet.”
Cloud’s heart hammers in his ears as he screams and chokes on the smoke—
And then he wakes up.
Cloud stares at the ceiling, his chest heaving, sweat sticking to his skin. It’s not the only thing, though. He feels something else inside him, a familiar pull.
He knows from that alone that Sephiroth has returned.
Instead of feeling dread and anger, he feels something else.
Happiness. He’s happy. He’s so happy that before he even realizes it, he’s crying, sobbing into his hands.
Because now he understands. He understands what he has been missing.
I’m waiting for you, puppet, Sephiroth croons in his mind. You’re my everything, after all.
It’s wrong and Cloud knows it. Sephiroth is the biggest threat to the Planet. A blight, a calamity. Still—he’s also the only person who understands Cloud in a way Cloud has been craving.
The connection between them is what Cloud has sorely missed. To feel this pull, to have Sephiroth’s presence fill his mind like this. It fills a void he hadn’t even realized existed.
But where is he? Where is Sephiroth?
Cloud is overwhelmed with a need to know, to get to him. Nothing else seems to matter. He can only think of Sephiroth, his childhood hero, his biggest nemesis—and the only person on the Planet who truly knows his soul.
Cloud stumbles out of bed and collapses on his knees.
“Seph—” he chokes. “Sephiroth. Where are you? Tell me. I will come to you.”
Something caresses his consciousness, a touch so gentle Cloud moans without planning to moan. His skin tingles and it spreads to his back, focusing between his shoulder blades. It soon intensifies into pain—bad pain. Cloud winces and bites back a whimper as the pain grows grows grows—
A wing bursts through, spreading on his left side. The pain is replaced with euphoria, an immense surge of power that floods into his veins.
I have shared some of my magic with you, my puppet, Sephiroth whispers. Come to me.
Cloud rises on his feet. After months of feelings like he’s not even living, this newfound energy, this strength, feels amazing. He knows his purpose.
He looks around his small room, the papers and books on the table, the photographs he has taken, the spare tires for Fenrir.
He doesn’t need to take anything with him, not really. The only thing he does is getting dressed—a black turtleneck sweater, with his new wing quickly finding a way through it—along with black pants and boots.
Maybe Cloud should leave a message. He picks up a stray, black feather from the floor and lowers it on his pillow to show that he has finally found a place to belong.
“I’m coming,” Cloud mutters and opens the window. The night air feels cool against his flushed skin. “I’m coming home, Sephiroth.”
He jumps out of the window and takes to the skies.
***
Flying is amazing.
Cloud laughs giddily as he soars through the air, quickly leaving Midgar behind him. He follows the pull he feels in his heart and heads north.
The wind whips against his face and tugs at his hair, but Cloud doesn’t care. He feels better than he has in years, and soon he can be with Sephiroth again. This time, nothing can come between them. Nothing. Cloud will make sure of that.
Sephiroth might’ve been his enemy, but Cloud can’t find anyone else on the entire planet who could make him feel so whole. To settle the emptiness he has felt.
His stomach tightens when he thinks about it all, the prospect of finally giving himself to Sephiroth fully, his body and his soul. He should’ve done that a long time ago.
Cloud keeps flying, and slowly the night bleeds into morning, then into early afternoon. Around that time Cloud finally reaches the snowy plains of the northern continent.
He knows now where he’s going.
The crater is still there, but as he flies in, the air changes. Below, instead of seeing the bottom of the crater, he sees a field of flowers and an actual lake. There’s even a house, a lovely, small cottage with a slanted roof.
Cloud is home.
He descends until his feet touch the grass. The air is warm and heavy with the scent of flowers.
The wing dissipates, but Cloud can feel it furling inside him. A gift from Sephiroth. He sighs and looks around more.
“Sephiroth?” he calls. “I’m here. I came.”
And then Sephiroth appears. He stands farther away from Cloud, long silver hair swaying in the wind, and he’s not how Cloud remembers him. Instead of his original clothes—the leather jacket, all that—his clothes are… casual. A black button-up with sleeves rolled at the elbows, along with dark gray pants. He’s not even wearing boots—just sandals, as if he stepped outside to get some fresh air.
He looks beautiful like that, and he’s smiling as he looks at Cloud. “Good boy, Cloud,” he croons.
Cloud takes one uncertain step forward and then he breaks into a run. He skitters to a halt right in front of Sephiroth and drops to his knees.
“Look at me, Cloud,” Sephiroth says.
Cloud lifts his eyes instantly. “I came,” he says again and laughs wetly.
“So you did,” Sephiroth says and cards his fingers through Cloud’s hair. “I was waiting for you. You helped me come back, you know? You made all of this possible.”
Cloud blinks. “Oh. I did? How?”
“The loneliness you felt,” Sephiroth says, moving his hand to cup Cloud’s cheek, “the desperation you felt because no one understood you. You called to me without realizing it. You hoped for a place to call home, where you can be yourself. I created all of this for you. Here, we can be at peace.”
Cloud leans into the touch, but then he frowns and looks at Sephiroth again. “How, exactly? We’re in a crater. I’m going to need food. All that… human stuff.”
“Don’t worry about that, puppet,” Sephiroth says, still caressing Cloud’s cheek. “Rest assured, you’ll get everything you want. There’s only one thing I want in return.”
“Anything,” Cloud croaks. “I’ll give you anything, Sephiroth.”
“I want all of you,” Sephiroth croons. “A more… permanent connection. Something that will make sure we’ll always stay together.”
Cloud instantly perks up at that. “I’m here, aren’t I?” he says. “I’m yours, Sephiroth, of course. Just—don’t make me leave again.”
“Are you sure?” Sephiroth asks softly. “Are you sure you’ll want to spend an eternity with me, Cloud?”
Tears start to spill on Cloud’s cheek as he nods wildly. “Yes. Please. I’m home now. I’m finally home.”
Sephiroth smiles gently and moves his hand to rest on Cloud’s forehead.
He feels their souls bonding and merging together. Excruciating pain flares through his entire body and he screams until his voice is hoarse, and then he hears nothing else.
***
Cloud wakes up to softness.
He expects pain, but it doesn’t arrive. Instead, he feels content. Safe. More alive than ever. He opens his eyes.
He’s lying on a huge bed in a beautiful bedroom, with the sun shining through the windows and throwing shadows on the walls. There’s a fireplace on the opposite side, beside the door, along with two armchairs close to it. One wall is dominated by a huge cabinet with lots of drawers.
Cloud sits up. He isn’t wearing the clothes he arrived with—instead, he’s wearing a wonderfully soft shirt and pajama pants that match it. He even has fuzzy socks, preventing his toes from feeling cold.
He’s alone—but not fully. Now he feels the tether between him and Sephiroth, knows that they share a connection more intimate than anything else on the Planet. Cloud knows he won’t die of old age now, that he will stay like this as long as Sephiroth exists.
But it’s a cycle, isn’t it? They’re both feeding each other’s lives. So as long as Cloud exists, so does Sephiroth. They literally can’t exist without each other.
Cloud gets up from the bed and finds a soft hoodie waiting for him on the chair nearby. He grabs it and pulls it over his head before venturing out of the bedroom.
The inside of the house is lovely. It’s all warm colors with creaking wooden floors and soft rugs. Big enough for two people, but not too big.
Cloud remembers that Sephiroth created this house for them, and he smiles to himself.
He climbs down the stairs. “Sephiroth?” he calls. He looks around more before venturing deeper into the house. He finds a living room with another fireplace and a huge bookshelf stacked with books. He finds a bathroom with an actual pool.
The last place is the kitchen. It’s also wonderful, with a small, round table in the middle. On that table is a plate, covered with a lid, a note leaning against it. Cloud takes it.
My puppet,
I need to make sure our sanctuary is safe, so I’ll be gone for a while. Don’t worry, I will return soon. You’re perfectly safe here. Enjoy your breakfast and explore at your leisure.
There’s no signature, but Cloud knows who wrote the note. Excited, he lifts the lid to find a bowl of oat porridge with a cube of butter. It’s accompanied by fresh strawberries.
Now that Cloud pays attention, he realizes there’s coffee too, secured in a thermos on the counter.
He has really been wrong about Sephiroth, all along. He searches for a mug, takes a carton of milk from the fridge and then sits down at the table.
The porridge is delicious, as are the strawberries. The coffee is perfectly brewed, as if Sephiroth knows exactly how Cloud likes it.
After breakfast, Cloud ventures to the door, but he can’t find his shoes anywhere. At least, not those he arrived in. Instead, he finds another pair of sandals that he slips on, and then opens the door.
He has no idea how long he was unconscious, but the sun is high up and the sky is blue. Then again, Cloud can’t be sure if the sky he sees is the real one or a projection—there shouldn’t be a place like this inside a crater, after all.
All of this could be an illusion, but Cloud doesn’t really care. It feels real enough to him.
For the next hour, he walks around the meadow, crouches at the water’s edge. The water is cold and clear—a perfect place to swim during summer.
There’s not a lot to see. The meadow, as well as the lake all hug the edges of the crater, jagged walls rising around him. The only way inside is by flying.
Cloud summons his wing and it obeys him, and he laughs loudly as he shoots through the air inside the crater. He flies as high as he can, but soon realizes that he can’t get out of the crater—an invisible force stops him from advancing.
A small part of him realizes it might not be a good thing, but a bigger part ignores it. Why would he want to leave, anyway?
He descends back down. Even though he’s completely alone here, he doesn’t feel lonely. He can’t, because Sephiroth is still with him, filling his heart.
“Come back soon, Seph,” Cloud whispers.
***
It’s already dark when Sephiroth finally does come back.
Cloud has been watching TV the entire time. How he can see the channels out here is beyond him, but it is, among other things, something he doesn’t really care to think about. What does it matter how it happens as long as it does?
As Cloud hears the door, he springs to his feet and almost runs to the entrance.
“There you are,” Cloud says softly.
Sephiroth kneels down to remove his shoes before he steps further into the house.
“Here I am,” Sephiroth says. “Did you miss me?”
Cloud nods. “It was quiet. But I love this place.”
“Good, it’s for you, after all,” Sephiroth says, another one of his small smirks playing on his lips.
It still feels surreal, that their dynamic has changed into something so different now. Cloud can’t even think about hurting Sephiroth or pushing him back into the lifestream.
He desires something else entirely.
Sephiroth knows it immediately, as he steps closer and grabs Cloud’s chin. “You only need to ask, puppet,” he says sweetly.
Cloud swallows, blush creeping up to his cheeks. “Seph,” he says, hesitating only for a moment. “Kiss me. Please.”
“As you wish,” Sephiroth says and then his lips are on Cloud’s and he knows it’s right, that this is exactly how it should be. He moans into Sephiroth’s mouth as he kisses back, greedily pressing his lips against Sephiroth’s, his tongue darting out.
Strong arms grab his waist and pull him closer, and Cloud barely has time to breathe until the kiss deepens again. Feeling Sephiroth’s body flushed against his is electrifying, and his cock makes an interested twitch, followed by a warmth pooling in the pit of his stomach.
“Have you ever been with someone, Cloud?” Sephiroth murmurs into his mouth. “Have you been stretched around someone else’s cock?”
“Only once,” Cloud mutters his answer. “I—didn’t know then, yet. I’m sorry, Seph.”
“It’s okay,” Sephiroth says. “I forgive you.”
Cloud makes a choked noise in his throat as need starts to fill him and his pants start to feel tight.
No more words are required. Sephiroth moves fast, lifting Cloud against him, palms cupping his ass, and Cloud locks his feet behind Sephiroth’s back. They never stop kissing as Sephiroth climbs the stairs and takes them to the bedroom.
“Why don’t you put on a show for me, Cloud?” Sephiroth asks softly. “Undress yourself. Get on the bed and present yourself to me. Show me you’re mine.”
Cloud makes a needy, breathy moan and nods. “Yes, as you wish, Seph.” Sephiroth lowers him on the floor and he steps back.
When Cloud starts to take off his clothes, he does that slowly, never breaking his eye contact with Sephiroth. The man looks back at him, pupils blown wide and lips parted, and Cloud sees the outline of his cock straining against his pants.
Cloud has never done anything like this before, but as his clothes flutter on the floor, he keeps touching himself, sliding his fingers over his nipples, then hooking his thumbs on the waistband of his pants before letting them pool on the floor. He’s hard already too, with a darker patch on his boxers from precum.
Feeling only slightly nervous, Cloud slides the boxers down his legs and steps out of them.
He’s now completely naked in front of Sephiroth, his cock standing up and throbbing.
Sephiroth looks hungry, but he doesn’t move, just nods towards the bed.
Cloud turns and climbs on it, settling on his back with his legs spread, inviting Sephiroth in. Heart hammers in his ears and his face feels hot, the warmth spreading down his neck to his collarbones. It hadn’t been like this in the brothel Cloud had visited in Gold Saucer. This feels… a lot better. He feels wanted as Sephiroth keeps looking at him, slowly stepping closer to bed.
“Stroke yourself for me, puppet,” Sephiroth whispers. “Show me your pleasure.”
Cloud shivers, moves his hand to his cock, but then he stops. “I don’t—” He swallows. “It’s uncomfortable without lube.”
Sephiroth moves to the bedside table and produces a bottle of lube. Cloud stares at it. Sephiroth has prepared for everything, hasn’t he? It’s okay. He takes the bottle from Sephiroth’s hands, clicks it open and squeezes some on his hands. He hasn’t used lube a lot—just as he hasn’t jerked off that much either—but he knows how to use it. He warms it between his hands a bit before moving his right hand to the base of his cock, slowly gliding up and then down.
“Slower,” Sephiroth breathes.
Cloud whines, but does as he’s told, slowing his hand. His thighs quiver and the building pleasure makes his toes curl. Considering he was already hard, it’s not going to need much to come.
“Look at me.”
Cloud looks at Sephiroth as he jerks off, at an agonizing slow pace.
“Seph—I’m going to—” Cloud arches his back as he gets closer to his climax, the heat delicious building up. He’s so close, so damn close.
“It’s okay,” Sephiroth says. “Come for me, puppet.”
Cloud makes one last stroke and then he’s coming, spilling on his hand, breath catching in his throat. Sephiroth shifts, only a little, and Cloud sees how hard he is, the imprint of his cock even more visible than before.
Cloud’s hand falls on the mattress, blissed out in the aftermath of his orgasm. His cock rests against his balls and he feels sticky with his cum. “Sephi…” he slurs, making grabby hands towards his… lover? Are they lovers? They have to be, right?
“I’m here, Cloud,” Sephiroth says. He strips out of his clothes quickly, and just seeing Sephiroth’s heavy cock makes more heat pool inside Cloud’s veins, making the need and the carnal desire wrenching through him.
Cloud’s breath hitches as Sephiroth joins him in the bed and moves between his legs. “I’m going to make you come so many times,” Sephiroth croons. “I’m going to fuck you out so thoroughly you won’t separate left from right.”
“Please,” Cloud whimpers. “Please, Sephiroth—”
Sephiroth takes the lube bottle and squirts it on his fingers. Then, without a warning, he shoves one inside Cloud’s hole, deep deep deeper until it hits the precious spot that made Cloud keen when his male partner had done it for him.
Cloud arches his back now, delicious arousal burning through him and making his cock jump.
“Seph—” he moans and reaches out.
“Keep your hands up,” Sephiroth commands, but not unkindly. “I don’t want you touching yourself now.”
Cloud obeys quickly, lifting his arms over his head and grabbing the pillow under his head. He can do nothing else than to moan and writhe as Sephiroth fingers him open, soon adding a second finger. It feels a lot better—Cloud realized early that he loves the stretch—and now pressure against his prostate is almost maddening. He feels his balls draw up, his cock throbs as it fills, and—
Sephiroth withdraws his fingers, and Cloud tries, vainly, to chase after them. He feels too empty and wrong. “Please,” he whines. “Please, Seph—please—”
“All in good time,” Sephiroth says quietly. He moves until he’s hovering over Cloud, his hair falling around them. “You’re so beautiful, my puppet. All mine.”
“All yours,” Cloud says and nods. “All yours, always.”
Sephiroth kisses him and Cloud returns it eagerly, grinding his body against Sephiroth’s feels the pressure against his abdomen. Sephiroth is so hard, and Cloud wants—he needs—
“What do you want most?” Sephiroth asks. “At this moment, what do you want most?”
Cloud blinks at Sephiroth through the haze of his pleasure. “You,” he croaks. “All of you, please, Seph, I need to feel you, connect with you—”
Sephiroth chuckles quietly. He still doesn’t hurry, though. For the next thirty minutes he kisses Cloud all over, sucking bruises into his skin and pecks at his nipples hard enough that Cloud comes again without no one even touching his cock.
Cloud’s throat is raw from the noises he’s been making, and he still can’t stop. He’s filled to the brim with agonizing pleasure and he still wants more, needs more.
Still, Sephiroth doesn’t go near his hole for a while—only when he starts to get hard again does Sephiroth take the lube and coat his cock with it.
Cloud’s entire world explodes when Sephiroth pushes in. It feels so good, so big and just so right.
“You were made for me,” Sephiroth says and shoves himself inside again. “Everything has waited for this moment, and this moment alone.”
“Yeah,” Cloud moans. “I’m—right—haah—where I should be. Sephiroth—I—”
“Shh, puppet,” Sephiroth says and bends down to kiss him. “I know.”
Cloud doesn’t want to let Sephiroth out of him and he instinctively clenches his muscles in an effort to keep Sephiroth inside. Every direct hit to his prostate makes stars dance in his eyes.
When he comes again, he comes untouched, twitching and crying out, and Sephiroth doesn’t stop nor does he pull out.
Cloud quickly loses all semblance of proper thought as they keep going. Sephiroth does exactly as he promised earlier—he fucks Cloud relentlessly, into overstimulation and beyond, and Cloud enjoys every second of it.
***
The life in their private paradise quickly finds a comfortable rhythm. Cloud knows now that he’s held inside the crater out of his own safety: his friends are, apparently, frantically looking for him.
He doesn’t care. Cloud is so happy and content now, spending his days in the meadow, swimming in the lake or just pouring over the books in the living room. He’s able to keep track of the world events through TV, even if he still doesn’t know how it works down here.
Sephiroth is often away, apparently preparing for a new attempt at taking over the Planet, and this time, Cloud has promised to help him.
It won’t be easy, though, even if both Cloud and Sephiroth are the most powerful beings in existence. The magic Sephiroth gifted to Cloud has quickly become his own, and he’s gotten very good at flying and controlling his new powers.
All the while, Cloud lives and breathes the bond between him and Sephiroth. They talk a lot about Jenova, about their past, about everything that has transpired over the years.
“I’m sorry I killed you,” Cloud mutters.
They’re lying on the grass, still glowing from their lovemaking, naked bodies tangled together.
“I forgave you long ago for that,” Sephiroth says, his fingers playing with Cloud’s hair.
It’s warm, with a gentle wind breezing through the meadow. Cloud presses his face against Sephiroth’s chest, pecks and suck on his nipple, and Sephiroth makes a quiet hiss.
“When you… appeared… the last time,” Cloud begins, breathing in the familiar scent of mako and stormy seas, “with the Remnants. I thought it was finally over. I had healed from geostigma, I realized I wasn’t alone. Except…” He sighs.
“Except what, puppet?” Sephiroth moves to kiss Cloud’s hair.
“It took me a while, but I… started to realize I had no one to talk to,” Cloud mumbles. “Like… properly talk. I had no one with the same experiences as mine. No one had felt the pull of the Reunion, your touch in my mind. I felt… detached from everyone else. As if I didn’t belong there.”
“Well… You didn’t, did you?” Sephiroth moves, throwing Cloud on his back on the grass. It feels cool and soft, but Cloud quickly forgets it and moans as Sephiroth grabs his cock. “You belong here with me. We’ll be so happy together.”
“Yeah,” Cloud says and yelps when Sephiroth moves to squeeze his balls. He loves it, the buzzing arousal it instantly awakens in him, the persistent need to be joined with Sephiroth as intimately as possible. He sighs with content as Sephiroth enters him until his balls press against Cloud’s ass.
“We’ll be together forever,” Sephiroth whispers before he dives in to kiss Cloud. “And we’ll have the entire world.”
Cloud almost blacks out with pleasure, out of happiness, and tears prickle at the corners of his eyes.
“Always,” he agrees and loses himself yet again as his nemesis, the only person ever to fully understand him, shows him exactly just how treasured he is.