At Last, There's no Resistance in your Outstretched Arms
WARNING: Pure male/male sex here. Don't read if it upsets you. Or, if you feel like being distraught by some random stranger's work, read on,
This was purely for the sake of release. I was bored; I wanted to write some FF7 porn. I watched Advent Children and between figuring out to what the title referred and trying to catch the other two thirds of Sephiroth that weren't Kadaj's names (what the hell are they called, anyway?), I was excited by the tension between Cloud and Seph when they joined swords.
So here's a dark, sad, sexy, smutty fic of Seph/Cloud. There's a very slight bit of plot to it, a little bit of commentary on their relationship during Advent Children, on how Cloud no longer trusts Sephiroth but yearns for the time when he at least believed that he meant something to Seph. Mostly it was for fun. Well, we'll see what you think.
The title for this comes from a doujinshi that I downloaded the scanlation for that was particularly sexual and very fun. Man, is there ever a lot of FF7 doujinshi out there! Now I know how Cloud and Seph have so much fame. Man!
Enjoy.
Being killed by stabbing is an elegant death. No one is supposed to think about it – everyone is simply to comply with the standard that no one deserves to die and blindly and hastily retort that no death is a beautiful one. But anyone who denies toying with the idea of choosing one death over another is a liar. Cloud was willing to admit, for one, living a life exposed to death so frequently, and as his thoughts became more and more morbid as of these past two years, that the image of his life ending on a blade was becoming clearer and more common.
To be stabbed with a sword, penetrated with a clear white blade, symbolized so many beautiful things – pure and absolute defeat of the enemy, a clean split of a fallen angel in two, or a man penetrating his lover with curious care in the brutal act.
It was two years since Cloud had last succumbed to Sephiroth's violent art. The flash of light behind his eyelids as the long Masamune tore into his flesh was still as clear as the moment it happened, and still was burrowed into his mind, but that was a more dull, blunt ache in his skull, rather than a clean cut through his subconscious.
Or maybe that was a symptom of the Geostigma.
The phantom pain in Cloud's left are drew him back to where he now sat, slumped against the side of a burning, blackened wreck of a building, a top it's smouldering shaft, perched between sky and a vertical tunnel of metal. The building could fall at any time. But only if Sephiroth willed it. That was simply it. But for now, the building remained, a prop in the one-winged warrior's game.
"Angst doesn't suit you, Cloud," Sephiroth's words throbbed against Cloud's ears like the old sting of a wasp. "It drains your youth, dampens your cheeks, scratches your fair skin." Then, to punctuate his point, the tall man sunk gracefully to one knee and snatched Cloud's chin in his long fingers.
Cloud was still. The dark green eyes set his skin alight; that dark gaze was something that still elicited a reaction in the young warrior, even when he convinced himself not to feel for anything else.
Cloud, like any good soldier, trained his way out of feeling a tingle so strong it made him woozy when a black gloved hand rested on his shoulder. He fought to keep down the sickness in his stomach that turned up whenever he recalled the past, when Sephiroth was a perfect goal, a divine entity that Cloud desired to be like or love by. He prayed that he wouldn't be afflicted by the stinging yearning that pulled at his heart when he recalled the image of Sephiroth standing with his back to him, symbolically framed by seeping darkness, a smug grin on the traitor's face.
Cloud cautiously looked into Sephiroth's face to see thin red lips coming down on his own. The kiss broke his defence, drained his very life with a cleanly-placed slick of red tongue; but it was that very kiss that gave him strength to fight. He returned the kiss with ferocity, pushing himself up with his hands, digging deep into Sephiroth's mouth with his own tongue and teeth.
When the prophetic kiss ended, Sephiroth pushed Cloud's wrists into the ground to his side with one big, gloved hand. The leather creaked as he squeezed to show his strength, face stoic as he lay his other hand on his prey's abdomen to push him flat onto the ground. Those hands that bound him Cloud knew could shatter his wrists with one convulsive pinch, if they so resolved, but they wouldn't. At least, a time ago they wouldn't, out of respect for a fellow fighter or, Cloud dared not think, affection; but now, Cloud risked nothing and lay stoically still.
Cloud winced as a sting of hot wind rounded his bare bottom, noting that his body was nude from the hem of his small sweater to the end of his pink toes. Sephiroth took his glove off with his teeth and ran a rough hand a swift stroke over his quarry's cock. Cloud grit his teeth as hard as he could to stay silent, to not emit any encouraging reaction.
Sephiroth made quick work of exposing his own erection, though hardly removing his hefty gear, ever an elegant and presentable soldier, despite what wickedness was concealed in his uniform. He whispered something like "are you ready?" to Cloud, who remained still, though a look of discomfort read clearly in his peaked eyebrows.
As the former shining general prepared him, Cloud tasted blood in his mouth. Maybe it came from biting his lip so hard to stifle yelling that it bled, maybe his immeasurable anger from yet again being completely and utterly taken-over by his rival-turned-enemy made blood boil in the back of his throat. The pain was obvious as Sephiroth's practiced fingers twitched inside him, but there was still the surge of pleasure when a new knuckle broke the surface.
Sephiroth released Cloud's wrists, satisfied that Cloud was weakened beyond resistance, and led his hands to the back of the blonde one's thighs. He hardness grazed tentatively at Cloud's opening as Cloud sat up on his hands.
As Sephiroth fed the head of his penis in, he finally received a reaction from Cloud.
"Don't," Cloud hissed, his pinkish face twisted in pain. If you do this, there's no going back. With a wicked smile Sephiroth pushed Cloud's thin legs further up and apart. "Seph-!" he tried again, water stinging the corners of his eyes.
Cloud's scream echoed and was lost in the surrounding carnage as Sephiroth slid in, hard and smooth, and Cloud let his head fall back, plainly blacking-out when Sephiroth sheathed himself inside.
Cloud awoke with the next damaging thrust, crying with it as well. There was no feeling like this. It wasn't as if he'd never been entered before: still the awkward and now bittersweet recalling of Zack saying "it won't hurt after a while," and Cloud covering his face with his hands in childish embarrassment, were clear. But still, when Sephiroth penetrated him, split him like a knife, the feeling was so intense, prophetically so, that Cloud felt he ought to be torn apart. But at once, made whole.
It made Cloud dizzy to think that he was the only one who ever felt this. There was only one perfect SOLDIER, and he was Sephiroth, and there was only one who he ever went inside, and that was Cloud. Foolish, wannabe gallant Cloud was the only one who could defeat Sephiroth, and he was the only one who could take his cock.
Cloud felt a shiver run up his spine as Sephiroth effortlessly pulled out with a grin on his face. Quite plainly, his thighs were becoming numb in the extreme position he was in, the very flow of his blood controlled by the man hovering impiously above him.
Cloud began to pant, slowly at first, eyes showing dread and heat and heaviness, lapping up the saliva and blood that was accumulating at the front of his mouth. "Seph-"
Sephiroth leaned close over Cloud's heaving chest. "Do you want me to keep going?"
"Yes," Cloud breathed, "of course I do! I always want you to keep going!"
"Oh?" Sephiroth's thin-lipped smirk widened like that of a malevolent frog. He had unimaginable power and he never forgot it. Sephiroth commanded everything he did. He thrust agonizingly in again.
Cloud let out a terrible groan, tipping back his head, howling at the fiery sky. Sephiroth paused again, tipping his core over onto Cloud and leaning close to his face.
"Hush, now," Sephiroth whispered his deep voice. His loose white hair brushed Cloud's neck.
Cloud panted hard, restrained by the weight of the bigger chest on his own. With strain he lifted his head, coming close to Sephiroth's pale nose and red mouth.
Cloud breathed painfully under the pressure on his chest, "What else can I do, here? What else can I do?" he asked, though it was rhetorical. That's what the one-winged fallen angel wanted: to be completely in control. For Cloud to be completely restrained, with nothing to do but take what Sephiroth gave him.
With a majestic thrust, Sephiroth dove in again, starting a ruthless rhythm. He held Cloud's legs still, creating a faultless tightness in the smaller one's body. Cloud kept his head tipped back, moaning with each powerful shove, elbows buckled stiffly behind him, turning painfully red with strain.
In the ardour, Cloud became aware of his surroundings: the cement wall behind him, the fire lashing out from every corner of the wreckage, Sephiroth's immense body overtop of him. He turned his hips to allow better entry, crying as the thrusts became deeper, more intense.
Cloud realised he was about to come, with hardly any contact to his own cock, and he bent his chin into his shoulder, succumbing to an orgasm built purely of Sephiroth's pressure inside him. The climax tore through his body, awakened every nerve in his numb thighs, spread across his hot chest and prickled in his chin and twisted throat.
Sephiroth made no sound as he came, riding out his orgasm with perfect all the perfect ease and grace of his creation, a bit of his cum trickling out over Cloud's peach bottom upon his withdrawal.
Sephiroth remained on his hands and knees over Cloud, pinning him into the cement, making his orgasm last and him well remember how it felt. For a moment, the soldier allowed his eyes to shut, drained, deep in thought, head turned away from Cloud.
Sephiroth's breathing levelled out sooner than Cloud. He released the panting boy, standing up and adjusting his pants. He looked the weakened warrior on the ground over and then sunk back to his knees, leaning close.
"You'll always be alone without me," Sephiroth whispered, pushing back his hair over one delicate ear. As an elusion to their glorious upcoming fight, he concluded, "you will never be whole without me."
Cloud was still, body flat on the ground, stomach still heaving with breath. How did it become so? When did Sephiroth become the only one who could match him in a fight, make him come so hard and fully, make him feel so alone and useless without him?
Indeed, to take a blade was an elegant death. For Cloud and Sephiroth, it was their only end.
Whoo. Well. That's that. I'm glad I got that out of my system. What did you guys think?
I wanted it to be sad, kind of like a recollection of their lost love, but I also wanted to play up a bit of the "two parts of a whole" theme. Mostly, though, it was about how undeniably sexy and strong Sephiroth is and how Cloud is the only one who can match him, in anything . . . I figure it's in-character if you're considering the film, 'cause that's when it takes place. Dark, lonely, but full of action and excitement, like the movie. Do you think?